


A Promise

by SilverDust09



Series: A Promise [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU-Canon divergence, F/M, Jon is a Targaryen, Jon is not called Aegon, JonCon won the Battle of the Bells, Lyanna Lives, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar Lives, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-10-21 09:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 62
Words: 117,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDust09/pseuds/SilverDust09
Summary: Lyanna and Rhaegar reunite. Not all is well.





	1. Lyanna

A grey sky spread over King’s Landing, fat droplets of rain pouring from the sky. King’s Landing was as grand as she had imagined it, but it smelled fouler than a pigsty.

Not even the Red Keep with its bright red walls and the Sept the Baelor with its crystal towers were able over to make her forget the foul smell.

Lyanna was used to fresh snowfall, the smell of pines, and the weirwoods. Not this city full of stone and blood.

_At least the city is still whole_, she thought and shuddered when she thought of the battle that had decided the war in favor of the Targaryen loyalists and had sealed Robert Baratheon’s fate. _The Battle of the Bells,_ it was called, a battle Jon Connington, now Hand of the King, had won by giving half of the city to the flames.

_The Bloody Hand_, they had called him now.

Lyanna had wept bitter tears when she had heard about it. She had wanted to leave, but she had been heavy with child and Ser Arthur Dayne had been able to convince her to stay. And after she had finally given birth, she had been forced to keep to bed for several more weeks, before she was strong enough to travel to King’s Landing. By then, the Rebellion had been over and Storm’s End had fallen into Mace Tyrell’s hands.

_Your brother has been captured_, Rhaegar had informed her through a raven. _He is wounded, but alive._

Lyanna had been relieved to hear it, though she dreaded the prospect of speaking to her brother. Brandon’s and her father’s death were another matter that weighed heavily on her mind and had given her many a sleepless night.

_I shall explain everything_, she thought, and took a glance at the babe in her arms.

She had birthed him two moons ago, but he was rather small. He had been born a moon too early, but his appetite was strong and his soft brown hair reminded her of Benjen.

Benjen she had missed the most.

“He is always sleeping,” Wylla, her nursemaid, remarked. She had the Dornish looks, dark hair and sun-kissed skin, but her eyes were lighter, a clear blue color. She was a few years older than Lyanna and had already birthed three babes. “The world could fall apart and he wouldn’t wake.”

Lyanna chuckled and pulled her babe tighter to her chest. In this moment he opened his dark eyes, his father’s eyes.

Rhaegar she didn’t want to think about. They had a terrible fight, before his departure to King’s Landing.

She had wanted to leave, but he had forbidden it, claiming that Robert would not care to hear her explanations.

He was probably right about that, but that didn’t ease her guilt.

“I think he is hungry,” Lyanna said and handed her the babe to Wylla.

Wylla smiled and bared her breast, allowing him to suckle as much as he pleased.

Lyanna watched him with a sad smile while holding unto the back of the cart she had been placed in.

Riding was out of the question, though she couldn’t help but give Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Gerold jealous looks.

Ser Gerold, a tall and bulky man, rode in front of the cart. Right beside him, rode Ser Arthur Dayne and behind them was Ser Oswell Whent.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Arthur exclaimed, his violet eyes falling upon Gerold Hightower. “I missed the smell of shit and sweat.”

Gerold Hightower rolled his eyes while Arthur was gracing Lyanna with an amused smile.

He wanted to cheer her up.

“Lift your spirits, my Lady. The babe is well and the war is over. And Rhaegar will pardon your brother.”

Lyanna had no doubt about that, but that didn’t change the sadness she felt.

Yet, she didn’t want to insult Ser Arthur.

“All shall be well,” Lyanna agreed. “But I doubt Ned will see it the same way.”

“Your brother shouldn’t have supported Robert Baratheon in his rebellion,” Ser Arthur said. “He might have had his reasons, but treason is treason, no matter the reason.”

“I suppose so,” Lyanna thought and realized that Ser Gerold was looking at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Being blunt worked the best with a man like him. So much Lyanna had seen. “What is on your mind, Ser Gerold?”

“We are to bring you to Maegor’s Keep,” he explained. “Not everything is as peaceful as Arthur likes to pretend. We should be careful.”

“Please do not fret,” Lyanna assured Ser Gerold and pointed at the hood of her cloak. “I shan’t be a burden to you.”

“My thanks, my Lady,” he replied and continued to lead the way along the cobbled road.

More and more houses they passed, some as high as the grey towers of Winterfell and not taller than a hovel. Seeing so many people at once was startling.

Some watched them with interest, but most went about their daily business without paying them much attention.

Only a handful of children followed after them, their feet dirty and their clothes tattered.

Arthur waved back at them, Ser Oswell ignored them and Ser Gerold glowered at them until the crowd of children had finally dispersed.

“That is why I joined the Kingsguard,” Gerold remarked. “No children.”

Wylla chuckled and Lyanna took in the road ahead.

As they continued their travel, the streets grew narrower and Gerold had to ask the crowd to make space for them.

Next, they made their way up Aegon’s Hill. Here the street was much better. No holes and bumps littered the street and no onlookers pestered them.

The portcullis of the keep was already lowered when they arrived, men in golden cloaks guarding the walls.

A tall man greeted Ser Gerold and the other members of the Kingsguard and brought with him a handful of able hands, mostly squires and stable hands, who took hold of their horses.

“Good to see you alive, Stokeworth,” Ser Gerold remarked sarcastically as ever. “I heard King Aerys’ funeral was a rather somber event.

Stokeworth gave a curt nod. “Very sad, indeed.”

Lyanna didn’t know what to make of their strange exchange. She only knew that the King was dead, but not what had happened to him.

_Rhaegar….Did you finally kill him?_

“Well, the King expects _us_,” Ser Gerold explained and waved his hand at Lyanna and Wylla, who were about to climb out of the cart. “Where can we find him?”

Stokeworth gave her a curious look but said nothing.

“The King was indeed expecting your arrival. The rooms have been prepared.”

“I shall escort Lady Lyanna,” Arthur offered warmly. “Where is his Grace?”

“Maegor’s Keep,” Stokeworth replied. “The King’s Chambers.”

Arthur bowed his head and led the way, Lyanna following after him with her babe in her arms and Wylla beside her.

They entered through a backdoor, wrought in iron. The Great Hall loomed dark and foreboding, but Ser Arthur pulled her up a staircase.

The chamber that followed was narrow and decorated with tapestries in black and red, dragons, and other fearsome creatures.

The guards opened the last door, allowing them to enter a long corridor with black walls.

More and more dragons swirled along the walls before they entered a large chamber where she found three men seated at a table.

There was Rhaegar, a red-haired man who she recognized as Jon Connington and another man with brown hair, who had his back turned to her. When he turned around she recognized him as Ser Richard. _The Knight of Skulls and Kisses_. He had assisted Rhaegar in saving her from King Aerys’ henchmen.

When Rhaegar had noticed her presence, he dismissed them quickly. Ser Richard flashed her a smile, but Lord Connington looked very unhappy.

A ghost of a smile washed over Rhaegar’s lips, but there was something cold and broken about him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he said. “Please, escort Lady Wylla to her chambers.”

Arthur did as he was asked and left in company of Wylla, who flashed Lyanna a concerning look, probably because she was still cradling her babe in her arms.

Once, Arthur was gone, Rhaegar’s gaze softened, his dark eyes darting to their son.

“He is small but strong,” he said and touched the sleeping babe’s head. Then, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. “I was worried to leave you in that tower. It was good that Arthur brought you to Starfall.”

“He was born a bit too early,” was all Lyanna managed to say. “There was much blood, but I suppose that is normal.”

Rhaegar dropped his hand when he noticed her lack of response.

“Have you chosen a name?”

“He is a Targaryen Prince,” Lyanna replied. “It is for you to choose his name.”

“Aemon then,” he said and smiled when their babe wrinkled his nose. “He looks like an Aemon.”

“What about your other son?” Lyanna asked, coming straight to the point. “Aegon. Is he here?”

“He is at Dragonstone with his mother and sister. My mother is also there to keep them company. My father’s death rattled her,” Rhaegar explained and averted her gaze. “I shall send you there when all is said and done. Elia shall be Queen as promised and reside here at King’s Landing. You shall have a home at Dragonstone. Would that please you?”

“It would please me to see my brother,” Lyanna replied as softly as possible, but couldn’t help but to show her displeasure. “You did not lock him in the Black Cells, did you?”

“He is under house arrest,” Rhaegar assured her. He looked exhausted, his cheeks hollow and pale. “I told him the truth, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Lyanna chuckled dryly. “That doesn’t surprise me. Ned won’t believe anyone, but me and even then he might cling to the lies he heard. Lies you helped to grow by hiding away in that tower.”

Then, she exhaled deeply and sat down. Her body was still recovering from the difficult birth and was often exhausted.

“What about Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully? What about Robert’s brothers?”

“Jon Arryn is hiding in the Eyrie and Lord Hoster was captured. I shall take his head for this. He had no reason to fight. Jon Arryn shall be pardoned. He was only acting in the interest of his wards. I cannot fault him for that. As for the Baratheons. Stannis was captured and shall be pardoned as well. Renly shall be a hostage of the crown to keep his brother loyal.”

Lyanna’s guilt was eased to hear this, but it was not enough to wash away the sour taste in her mouth.

“I shall speak to my brother. He will see reason when I tell him the whole truth. Ned will hate me, but he won’t harm his own blood, let alone his nephew.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and fell to his knees, covering her hands with his.

“I hope so. I do not wish to harm him. I never did, you know that.”

Lyanna nodded her head and trembled. She needed to know if Brandon and her father had been avenged.

It was the only way she could forgive him.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him?”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened and a grimace of pain washed over his face.

“I killed him,” he said, his lips trembling as he buried his face in his hands. “I killed him.”

Lyanna felt no sadness over Aerys’ death. He had not only sent men to defile her but had also mistreated her. He had killed her father and brother.

_He can burn in the Seven Hells_.

Yet, when she saw Rhaegar’s tears, her heart softened.

“You did the right thing. Fuck those, who call you a Kingslayer. He was a monster and needed to die.”

“He was not always a monster,” Rhaegar replied and tightened his grip on her hands. “He gave me my first harp. He loved me once. The crown made him into person he was. The burden was too much for him.”

“Do not defend him,” Lyanna couldn’t help but to reply, but regretted her decision when her babe stirred from his slumber. She instantly softened her voice. “He does not deserve your love.”

“He is gone now,” Rhaegar replied and watched as she was rocking their sons. “I do not want to speak about _him _anymore. Let us speak about the future. Dragonstone….,” he began, but Lyanna cut him off.

“I shall go there when I have spoken to my brother. Then, your Queen can return to King’s Landing without having to look at me. I know my place.”

Surprise showed on Rhaegar’s face.

“You are so cold. I thought you might refuse…,” he began, but Lyanna cut him off.

“Why would I refuse? Do you think I will be welcome in the North? I can’t go back there. So much I know. Besides, I won’t have my son grow up like a bastard. He deserves better than that and I expect of you to make sure that he is treated not _lesser_ than your other children. I do not care what your Queen and the other ladies think of me. They can call me whore for all I care, but my son will be treated well. That is all I care about.”

Rhaegar looked hurt, but smiled, nevertheless.

“He is the Prince that was Promised. I would never hurt him. I promise.”

Lyanna believed him and gave him a trembling smile. She loved him still, but she would need time to heal her wounds.

“Can you promise me another thing?”

Rhaegar nodded his head.

“Everything you want? Just say it!

“Stop calling him that. He is just our son. Prince Aemon Targaryen. That is enough of a burden to bear for a child so young.”

Rhaegar’s expression was a mixture of sadness and regret, as he touched her shoulder.

“I promise.”

…


	2. Ned

**Ned**

Ned narrowed his gaze against the bright sunlight falling through the high windows. It was a great relief to feel the sunlight on his cheeks, even if it was only through painted glass.

Two days ago, he had arrived in King’s Landing and had been put into a comfortable chamber. It was a small room, meant for highborn guests with all its luxury. There was a featherbed, he had received fresh clothing and a proper meal: venison with potatoes soaked in butter and cream.

It was the best food he had tasted in nearly a year, but he felt like a dirty traitor for consuming it.

That he had been locked up all day, only helped to increase his impatience. He was also not used to being treated like a prisoner.

_That’s your own fault_, Ned chided himself. _You should have spoken more calmly while facing the Prince…No, the King._

It felt almost a lifetime ago since the Prince had attempted to speak to him after his capture by the hands of Lord Randyll Tarly.

What the King had revealed to him, had shaken Ned’s believes, but even so, he hadn’t been able to believe him. Instead, he had cursed the King and had probably sealed his and Lyanna’s fate.

_I shouldn’t be here_, he thought and brushed his hand over the yellow glass, watching the men in the courtyard below. _I should be in Winterfell._

Winterfell was another thing he had never expected to inherit. His brother Brandon had been meant to inherit Winterfell and it was Bandon who had been meant to wed Catelyn Tully. At times, it was hard to think of her as anything but the girl Brandon had been meant to marry, though Ned had wed her barely a year ago in the Sept of Riverrun.

What he thought of her he couldn’t say. She was a stranger to him and his son…he didn’t even know the boy’s name.

_I ought to call him after Jon_, Ned mused. _Or perhaps Rickard? Or Brandon?_

In truth, Jon Arryn had always been more of a father to him than Lord Rickard. The elderly Lord had given him the fatherly warmth his own father had never been able to give. The death of Ned’s mother had turned his heart to ice.

Thinking of Jon Arryn made him also think of Robert. His hot-headed friend had dreamed of murdering Prince Rhaegar and King Aerys, but in the end, he had found a gruesome death at the Battle of the Bells.

Ned didn’t want to think of this heinous butchery, making him realize again the futility of this war.

_Perhaps it is our punishment for our attempted treachery._

Ned had only fought to keep his head, but Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully had wanted to give Robert a crown. Ned had only desired King Aerys’ head and had wanted to save his sister, but if what the King had told him was true it was another lie.

_No, it can’t be true. The King must be lying._

His confused thoughts dispersed into nothingness when he heard the groan of the door and noticed the entrance of a young girl, a very familiar girl, his sister.

His sister spoke no word before she threw herself into his arms. Ned had been so startled that he had nearly stumbled backward.

Lyanna lifted her head, her brown hair in disarray, and her grey eyes wet with tears.

Ned couldn’t believe it. Lyanna was alive and well.

“Lyanna,” he said, his voice strained as he touched her cold cheek. “You are alive?”

“What Rhaegar told you is the truth,” she replied and let go of him, taking a step backward. There was an unknown softness in her long face. “It was all a misunderstanding.”

Ned’s mind started to circle madly. He recalled all too well what the King had told him. That he had saved his sister from his father’s men and that he had wed her beneath the weirwood tree.

“You were the Knight of the Laughing Tree?” Ned asked. It was the first thought that had entered his mind. “Gods, be good…and Aerys’ men….they…,” he stuttered, but Lyanna silenced him with a sharp look.

“Aye,” she confirmed, but left the rest unspoken. She trembled visibly, her fist clenched. “But that is in the past. What is important is that I am wed to Rhaegar and that I have born his child…a son…Prince Aemon Targaryen.”

Ned backed away, trying to take in this piece of information. The King had only told him that he had wed her, not that Lyanna had a child from him.

“Are you sure it is his? After…” he began, but Lyanna cut him off with an angry glare.

“Of course he is …Gods, Ned. I drank a load of moon tea before the wedding. I also had may moonblood a moon later. There is no doubt.”

Ned lifted hands to his face and sat down in the nearby chair. He felt dizzy.

He took a moment to exhale deeply, before lifting his head to search his sister’s face.

“Still, you could have sent a raven…Why?” he asked accusingly. “Why not?”

Lyanna’s gaze fell and she knelt down before him. “And what use would that have been? Do you think Robert, Brandon and father would have believed Rhaegar if he came forward and it was discovered I was no longer a maid? No, they would have accused him of the very thing Robert was spreading around…that he abducted and defiled me. And then there was Aerys…Rhaegar was not sure what the King would do to him for thwarting his plans. Thus, we decided to take shelter in Starfall until the situation calmed down. Ned, I didn’t think Brandon would do this…I never expected…I didn’t want him to die, “ she trailed off.

Ned believed her, but the resentment was still there burning inside his chest.

“Robert died for you too,” Ned accused her. “He died to save your honor.”

Lyanna paled visibly and clenched her teeth, her grey eyes burning with anger.

“My honor? Really, Ned?” she asked in disbelief. “Well, I think he was just trying to keep his head, like you.”

“He loved you,” Ned insisted and buried his face between his hands. “More than this Prince, who made you his whore.”

Lyanna grew very still, her grey eyes narrowed. She looked like a wolf watching her prey.

“Well, I like being the Prince’s whore more than I liked Robert Baratheon’s stinking breath or his filthy hands brushing beneath my skirt. At least, Rhaegar gave me a choice.”

Ned sighed deeply and lifted his head again. He had never heard her speak with so much hatred, but then he had also stoked the fires by giving her such an unseemly title.

He had regretted his words the moment they had left his mouth. He had spoken in anger, spurred on by his grief.

“Did you really hate him that much? Why did you not tell me?”

“I did,” she insisted fiercely. “More than once, but you _never_ listened. And for your information, I _never_ hated him. I just didn’t want to wed him. Is that so hard to understand? You loved him, I know that and if you think I wanted him to die you are truly a fool, Ned.”

“Even so, the old gods mean noshing in the South. Such a marriage has no legitimacy and your child…,” he began, but Lyanna cut him off again, grabbing his arm.

“Is Prince Aemon Targaryen. Rhaegar promised me that he would be treated equally to his other children. I care not for the crown…Elia Martell shall be Queen.”

Ned could only shake his head.

“How can you be so sure he is not just using you?”

“He isn’t using me,” Lyanna replied with unflinching honesty. “He risked his head to save me. He won’t betray me. I know it.”

Ned exhaled deeply, his head pounding painfully.

“Very well,” he sighed. “What now? What will happen to me?”

Lyanna’s gaze softened. “Rhaegar wants to pardon you in exchange for your vows of loyalty. He intends to offer the same courtesy to Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon. In exchange for hostages, but it could be much worse. Please, Ned. Be reasonable. Winterfell needs you.”

Ned had expected worse conditions and he longed to go home.

Still, he felt like a traitor as he nodded his head in agreement.

“I shall bend the knee,” he promised weakly, searching his sister’s face once more. “I shall bend the knee.”

Lyanna squeezed is hand. She looked utterly relieved.

Yet, Ned destroyed that all with his next question.

“What of Hoster Tully?”

Lyanna’s silence told him everything he needed to know.

…


	3. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella watched as her grandson raced through the green grass, Viserys and Lady Lyanna, her son’s beloved, running after him.

Her good-daughter was the first one to catch the boy, a squealing sound spilling from his mouth while Viserys continued to race along the muddied path towards the heart tree.

Aegon’s Garden was not particularly spacious and thus he returned moments later, seeking her gaze.

Her boy’s lilac eyes were wide with joy as he threw himself into her arms.

“Did you see?” her little boy asked. “I was much faster.”

Rhaella smiled and smoothed his hair. “Aye, I saw it. You were faster. That will serve you well in the Vale.”

Viserys’ expression soured at once.

“I won’t go,” her little boy replied flippantly and rushed away towards the underwood.

Rhaella sighed and shifted her attention to her daughter seated on the grass, her nursemaid Miriam showing her the flowers that were growing a few feet away from them. Daenerys was barely a year and showed not much interest in the flowers, pulling them out rather than admiring them.

_She will be a stubborn child_, so much she could see. _Much like Rhaegar._

Her grandson, who had inherited nothing of the Targaryen coloring beyond Rhaegar’s dark eyes. Yet, he had much of Rhaegar’s quiet and observant character. Alone that was enough to love the little boy, despite his rather questionable birth.

She had yet to make up her mind about her good-daughter, but her boy had won her heart in a matter of days.

“Lady Lyanna,” Rhaella called out to her good-daughter, who still carrying her little boy around. “I think a little bit of shade will be good for you?”

Her good-daughter had heard her and quickly joined her side, placing her little boy next down Daenerys and whispering something into his ear. He giggled and continued pulling out the flowers one after another while the nursemaid kept watching over them.

“Aemon likes the warmth,” her good-daughter replied politely, pulled up her skirt, and sat down in the chair across Rhaella. They had tea and cakes, though most of them had been eaten by Viserys. “I suppose he is more of a dragon than he looks like.”

“True,” Rhaella couldn’t help but agree and took in her good-daughter's appearance. By what she had heard of Lady Lyanna, she had expected to find a wild girl from the North, but the young woman was pretty civilized. She wore a pale chiffon dress and a bluish shawl was wrapped over her naked shoulders. She was pretty too, her face sharp and delicate and her dark hair shiny and healthy. Yet, Rhaella had seen much prettier girls. Cersei Lannister came to her mind, her first choice as a wife for her son, but a choice that hadn’t pleased Aerys. Elia, she hadn’t known very well when she had arranged the match, but she had always been fond of her mother and Aerys had liked the idea of a Dornish match, though she had realized too late that it was just another way for him to get back at Lord Tywin. Only after the marriage had she found out that Lord Tywin had humiliated the Dornish by refusing a match between Princess Elia and his heir Jaime. Again Rhaella had been a playball of her friends and husband. The thought saddened her. “But the boy has much of Rhaegar. Perhaps one of your other children will have the Targaryen coloring.”

Rhaella read surprise on Lady Lyanna’s face.

“More children?”

“Of course,” Rhaella replied. At first, she had thought that was the very reason her son had wed the girl, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore. It was clear that Rhaegar had fallen for the girl. Thus, she had assumed there would be more children. And while It was wrong to think like that, she wanted Rhaegar to have more children. More sons to continue his line, a duty Rhaella hadn’t been able to fulfill. _Aerys was right. I was a failure._ “I suppose my grandson has Daenerys, but Viserys will soon leave for the Eyrie to serve as Lord Royce’s page and it will take years before Aegon will be allowed to come here. Your boy will be lonely. It is good for a child to have younger siblings. It will teach him responsibility.”

Lady Lyanna nodded her head. “I shall speak with Rhaegar about it once he returns.”

Rhaella nodded her head and poured herself more of the cold tea. She had dismissed the servants, for she knew they would be listening to every word she was saying and she had enough of such spying after spending most of her life in King’s Landing

“You ought to get a nursemaid as well,” Rhaella offered and jerked her head at her grandson. “It is not good for him to cling to your skirt. He has to learn to be away from you or it will only be harder for him once Rhaegar calls him to King’s Landing.”

Displeasure showed on her good-daughter’s face, but she remained polite.

“Do you have a suggestion, your Grace?” Lady Lyanna asked sweetly and feigned a smile. Rhaella was pleased. That would serve her well in the future and showed her the girl in front of her had the potential to be more than just her son’s bed warmer.

“Rachelle, the current Mistress of the Chambermaids raised my Rhaegar,” Rhaella replied. “I shall ask her. She can attend to him while you are tending to your own duties.”

Lady Lyanna’s delicate eyebrows rose to the top of her head.”My duties?”

Rhaella smiled and placed her cup back on the table. “Of course. You were thought how to run a household, weren’t you?”

Lady Lyanna folded her hands in front of her as she angled her head to look at Rhaella.

“I lost my Lady Mother when I was eight namedays old and I was educated by my nursemaid Old Nan. That means…Aye, I have been running Winterfell’s household since I was ten and one, though how could I was I couldn’t say. I was always good at calculating. The only ability Maester Walys found praiseworthy about me. Well, Old Nan was never satisfied, but then she was always a strict taskmaster.”

Rhaella was pleased to hear this. “You shall oversee the accounts and help me with my daily duties as my son tasked me to rule Dragonstone in his stead until Aegon comes of age.”

“Rhaegar told me so much,” Lady Lyanna agreed and picked a cake from the table, taking a hesitant bite. “I suppose he won’t have time to come here all too often. His duties as King must keep him occupied.”

“That is so,” Rhaella confirmed and was pleased to see Viserys emerge from the underwood, brambles, and leaves sticking in his hair as he went to join Daenerys and Aemon, swinging around a wooden twig he must have found somewhere. “He is soon attending a wedding in Oldtown. Lord Stannis Baratheon is to be wed to Lynesse Hightower.”

“Hightower?” Lady Lyanna asked, her voice laced with sudden curiosity. “Isn’t that a bit much? Won’t Rhaegar’s allies be displeased if he shows so much favor to Lord Baratheon?”

“They certainly voiced their displeasure,” Rhaella told her. “But such displeasure is easily forgotten when one is rewarded with a match or a pretty title. Lord Mace Tyrell was most unhappy, but he fell silent the moment Rhaegar announced a betrothal between his son Willas and sweet Rhaenys. He even made the boy his personal squire. Now, Lord Mace is among those who wholeheartedly welcome Lord Stannis’ new position in the King’s council. Well, the fact that his wife is Lord Hightower’s direct kin should also help to keep Lord Baratheon in his place. Not that I think he would dare. Lord Stannis is very different from his brother. He knows his place. The only one who is still unhappy with the King is Lord Tywin, but that has more to do with the fact that he wasn’t offered the position he desired.”

“He wanted to be Hand of the King,” Lady Lyanna added. “Rhaegar told me about Lord Tywin’s ambitions.”

“When my husband was calling to war, Lord Tywin was hiding away like a coward. Many thought that even offering the position as Master of Coin was too much of an honor for him. And there is also his daughter, Lady Cersei. Lord Tywin was always hoping for a grand match for her, but now there is not much left for her, but leftovers. It is a most humiliating situation for him, which is why I advised offering him the position of Master of Coin.”

“And he refused,” Lady Lyanna replied. “Well, I suppose that is understandable. Rhaegar told me that he was once one of the most revered lords of the realm. Instead Lord Connington his being praised for his bloody butchery. Mayhaps Lord Tywin ought to wed Lady Cersei to the King’s Hand?”

Rhaella couldn’t help but notice the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“I think not, especially since Lord Tywin lacks an heir of his liking. Ser Jaime refused to leave the Kingsguard and his youngest son is a misshapen dwarf. Lady Cersei is the only one who can continue Lord Tywin’s line. I suppose he is going to wed her to a younger son and have the lord take the Lannister name.”

“I most humiliating situation,” Lady Lyanna repeated Rhaella’s earlier words. “I have seen her at the tourney. She seems a very proud woman.”

“Her mother was like that as well, but softer of heart. I loved her dearly, despite my husband’s desire for her.”

If Lady Lyanna was insulted it didn’t show on her face. She simply looked away and folded her hands in her lap.

“I suppose Queen Elia doesn’t like me.”

Rhaella was surprised by so much honesty. Her years in King’s Landing made it an almost novelty.

“No,” Rhaella replied. “She does not, but I doubt you ever expected that.”

Lady Lyanna nodded her head in understanding.

“I expected that.”

…


	4. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

His warm breath brushed over her shoulder, the sting of his bite leaving behind a pleasant pain. At times, Rhaegar literally proved a dragon and if she had taken a look she was sure she would find teeth marks showing on her flesh; but she couldn’t move, still trembling from the aftermath of pleasure.

Rhaegar’s dark indigo were misty as he rolled unto the side, leaving her longing for his warmth. Lyanna inhaled deeply and sat up, pulling the bedding over her naked form.

She could hear the chambermaids scuttling outside the wooden door. That was something she disliked about Dragonstone. The castle was too small. Winterfell had been wide and you could easily find a place to hide away from the prying eyes of the servants.

It was also much warmer here, though that had pleased her at first. Storms came and went occasionally, but it was nothing against the icy winds of the North. No, here everything smelled of smoke and salt.

_This castle is built on volcanoes_, Rhaegar had told her upon her arrival. _The air is always filled with the smell of smoke. That is why the dragons liked breeding here._

Rhaegar told her many more things about dragons and had taken her to explore the caves beneath the castle, telling her how he had hoped to find dragon eggs as a young boy but had only found bones, strange carvings, and steaming springs.

Lyanna had been fascinated, but that had been nearly two years ago and in that time he had visited her only a handful of times. There was always enough to do and she liked the presence of Queen Rhaella, but at times it was also plain boring and she disliked having to wait for his visits like some impatience child.

_I am no longer a child_, she reminded herself and sat up, placing her bare feet upon the Myrish carpet.

She felt the soft touch of the carpet on her toes as she bridged the distance to the strongbox placed beneath the arched window, allowing a good view on the stormy sea below.

She opened the box and pulled out a black dress. It was a summer dress, something a Northern Lady would never wear, but she was no longer in the North. _You have to adapt_, _child_, the Queen had told her and she had followed her advice, commissioning a handful of southern dresses, most black or red, but some more colorful.

“Is that a new dress?” Rhaegar’s question caused her to turn around.

Lyanna turned around and sat down on the bed, sinking deep in the soft mattress.

“I commissioned them. No silk though, only soft wool or brocade. Silk is not to my taste.”

Rhaegar gave her a warm smile and brushed his hand over the cloth of her dress. “I like it, but think silk would look very good on you.”

Lyanna smiled, but her worries made it harder than excepted.

Rhaegar seemed to notice her sadness and dropped his hand, giving her one of his usual frowns. His son had the same habit, but his hair was dark like hers instead of Rhaegar’s silver locks.

“Are you well?”

Lyanna forced another smile over her lips and pulled her legs up, sitting cross-legged as she searched for Rhaegar’s face.

“I am not sick,” she avoided the topic at hand and fumbled with the hem of her dress. “But I have been barely able to keep down my supper. Your mother has been noticing it too, but she is far too polite to make note of it.”

Realization washed over Rhaegar’s face and a laugh spilled from his lips.

“That is wonderful, Lya.”

He seemed happy, but Lyanna hadn’t expected anything less.

Lyanna herself was not so pleased. She had hoped it would take a bit longer, given how burdensome her son’s birth had been.

Well, she had only tried to follow the Queen Mother’s advice. Besides, drinking moon tea was not a remedy for the long term as it often had unpleasant side effects: bleeding, stomach cramps, and at the worst infertility if prepared from an unable hand.

Now, she regretted having listened to the Mother Queen. She felt bad about this, though it would certainly help to cement her position.

_Even better would be if this child was born with silver hai_r, she mused but brushed these thoughts away before they could take hold of her mind.

“You don’t look happy,” Rhaegar remarked.

She nodded her head, pleased that he had seen what she hadn’t been able to express.

“You don’t have to bear this child,” she told him rather bluntly. “It is not as pleasant as you might think.”

Rhaegar blushed, though she was not sure if it was displeasure or embarrassment.

“Oh, I do know how painful it is. You are wrong if you think men do not hear the pains of their women. Yet, we are not allowed to be there. ‘_Tis is the business of women,_’ as my mother would say. I have seen her go through most of her births. I know very well how painful it is.”

He had mentioned his mother, but not the stranger that stood between them like a dark shadow.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she apologized quickly. “Forgive me.”

Rhaegar shook his head and sat up, brushing her hair out of her face.

“No need. I am not easily insulted. You ought to know that by now. A King has to hear worse things from his subjects, though they conceal it behind false smiles and poetic flattery.”

She sighed in relief and smiled once more. This time it was an honest smile. “You are King.”

Rhaegar returned her smile and was about to lean closer when someone suddenly knocked at the door.

Lyanna hopped from the bed and threw Rhaegar a chiding look, indicating for him to dress, before she slowly opened the door to get a look at the visitor.

It was a serious face that looked back at her, lined with numerous wrinkles. Her head was covered with grey hair, braided strictly. It reminded her of Old Nan.

It was Rachelle, her son’s nursemaid, who had also taken up to educate Daenerys when the Queen Mother was not able to attend to her as Miriam her previous nursemaid was with child.

“What is it?”

“The Prince asks for your attention, my Lady,” came the tense answer. The woman didn’t like her, so much Lyanna knew, but her son seemed to like her, but that didn’t mean he was always satisfied with her company, especially when he was still feeling a little sickly.

“I shall…,” Lyanna began, but Rhaegar cut her off. “I shall go. You can rest.”

The nursemaid gave him a strange look, but this was the King and not even Rachelle the Dragon, as she was lovingly called by the younger chambermaids, would dare to go up against a real Dragon.

“Of course, your Grace,” the Lady replied and made space.

Lyanna smiled. “Very well, but do not keep him up for too long. He had a cold.”

…


	5. Viserys

**Viserys**

Viserys was woken by the sound of a song. He recognized the voice immediately, but being half-asleep, he had first believed that he was still dreaming.

He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed, leaving the warmth of his furs behind him. The stone floor beneath his feet felt cold and he picked up his velvet cloak along the way, fastening the silver clasp that held the garment together.

The music grew louder when he opened the door and stepped outside on the dark corridor. Around the corner, one could usually find a guardsman or two, but that didn’t affect Viserys all too much since the music came from the chamber across his own, which belonged to his nephew.

A year ago, he had still slept in the nursery with Viserys’ younger sister Daenerys, but now that he was nearly three his Lady Mother had thought it appropriate for him to be moved to his own chamber, though she had insisted that Viserys would sleep close to him.

Viserys hadn’t known what to make of that, because in nearly a moon he would leave for the Eyrie and it would be years before he could return to Dragonstone. By then, his nephew and even his sister would have probably forgotten about him.

_You are going on a grand adventure_, his Lady Mother had tried to comfort him_. Like the brave knights in the tales._

And while Viserys desperately wanted to be like one of the knights in the tales, he didn’t want to leave his home. Why couldn’t he be a knight here? Why did he have to go?

_Father would have never sent me away._

Yet, when his brother’s soothing voice filled his ears anew, he forgot his grudge and pushed the door open.

Rhaegar stopped at once, his dark indigo eyes searching for Viserys.

His nephew’s chamber was smaller than Viserys’, but that was no surprise. His nephew was still half a babe.

As expected, he found his nephew asleep, curled up beneath the furs, only a patch of dark hair visible on the pillow.

Rhaegar was seated beside him, his wooden harp in hand. Viserys recalled that Rhaegar had sometimes played for him when he was very little, but as he had grown older his brother had stopped doing it. Viserys wasn’t sure, but he believed it had been because of his father, who had often spoken ill about his brother, calling him a ‘usurper’ and a ‘bad son´.

Viserys had asked his mother if that was true, but she had assured him that his father had not been feeling well. Viserys had believed her of course. His Lady Mother would never lie to him and it was true what she had said. His father had often felt ill. He would never eat without someone tasting his food and he had often grown out his hair and beard until it was full of knots. At one point, he had also stopped cutting his fingernails and whenever Viserys went to see him he had bloody cuts on his hands and neck.

Even so, Viserys missed him, for father had always been kind to him. He had shown him the dragon skulls and at times he had also allowed him to sit on the Iron Throne, telling him that he would one day be a great King.

Not that Viserys wanted to be King. _‘Tis wouldn’t be proper’_ as his Lady Mother would remind him. Besides, Viserys rather wanted to be like a Knight in the Tales. Mayhaps he could even be like one of these Winged Knights his Lady Mother had told him about.

“Brother,” Rhaegar’s voice snapped him back to the present, though he had spoken very softly. “Did I wake you?”

Viserys raised his head and smiled at his brother. He whispered because he didn’t want to wake his nephew. “I like your song. What is it called?”

Rhaegar didn’t answer at once and picked him up from the floor, carrying him along the corridor and down the whirling staircase. There, they crossed another corridor and reached his brother’s study.

“Jenny of Oldstones,” Rhaegar answered and placed him on the ground, covered with a soft carpet. “I composed the song myself. It is a quiet song, well-suited as a lullaby. Aemon liked it well enough, though I think he would have been satisfied with everything.”

“I am surprised he didn’t ask for Lady Lyanna,” Viserys replied, unsure why his brother had brought him here. “You should come more often, brother. I missed you.”

Rhaegar smiled sadly and patted at the cushioned chair next to the hearth. “I missed you too, Vis, but I have my duties. But now we can speak.”

Viserys shuddered when he heard this, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

“About what? The Vale? I told you…I don’t want to go there.”

Rhaegar sighed and pushed another chair closer towards Viserys.

His hair was shorter, Viserys noticed, only reaching his chin. It made him look older.

“Tis isn’t about wanting, brother,” Rhaegar replied and leaned closer, placing his hands on Viserys’ shoulders. “I gave a promise to send you there, a promise I cannot easily break. Besides, Lord Royce’s oldest son is training to be a knight. You could make friends with him.”

It sounded tempting, but Viserys didn’t believe Rhaegar.

“Father always said a Prince has no need of friends.”

“Father said many things,” Rhaegar replied calmly and touched his cheek, forcing Viserys to look at him. “But even your father had friends, good friends. Had he listened to them he might have been a better King.”

Viserys was surprised to hear this.

“Who were my father’s friends?”

“Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lord Tywin Lannister. Both intelligent men whose council he should have respected more.”

“Lord Tywin is a traitor,” Viserys repeated what father had often said in his presence. “He hated him. Steffon Baratheon I don’t know…Is he kin to the pretender who tried to kill you?”

“Aye, he was his father,” Rhaegar confirmed and dropped his hand, leaning back in his chair. “As for Lord Tywin…he and father had a silly quarrel. Lord Tywin has his faults, but father was wrong to treat him as he did. He was a good Hand, though I cannot bring myself to trust him after he held back his swords when House Targaryen had need of them.

“Father said the same. Lord Tywin is a coward,” Viserys added eagerly. “So, he was right to hate him, wasn’t he?”

“This once, father had reason to mistrust him,” Rhaegar agreed hesitatingly and searched Viserys’ face once more. He looked as if he was afraid to speak. “But what father did was not right, Viserys. He was not always good. You need to understand that.”

“Father was King. A King cannot be wrong.”

“A King is just a human being of flesh and blood, brother,” Rhaegar countered. “Beggar or King we all have to die one day. And father did die, didn’t he? So, tell me brother, what makes him so different from the beggars in Flea Bottom?”

Viserys didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t even know how his father had died. His mother had told him it was his heart and since Viserys had no reason to question his mother he had accepted it as the truth.

He had been very sad, but his father had always been so angry. His heart must have burst from all the rage inside him and according to his mother it had been a quick death.

That had pleased Viserys. He had never liked watching his father burn the thieves. It had always taken so long and their screaming had scared him.

“Father died,” Viserys repeated at last and pulled up his feet, resting his chin atop his knees. “But surely a King is more important than a beggar?”

“Perhaps,” his brother agreed. “But the point is: all humans make mistakes. Father as well.”

Then, he looked away as if he was pondering a very important question before he shifted his attention back to Viserys.

“Did you hear what happened to Lord Brandon Stark and Lord Rickard Stark?”

Viserys nodded his head. Father had wanted him to see it, but Mother had sent him away with her ladies. Viserys had been upset, but he had been even more upset when he had seen his mother that night. His father had been angry with her and had punished her. She had been bleeding between her legs and she hadn’t been able to walk for days afterward.

That was the only time he had been afraid of his father.

“He punished them because they committed treason,” Viserys replied what he had heard from Queen Elia’s ladies. “Brandon Stark wanted to kill you and Rickard Stark was defending the traitor. Father said so.”

“Father was wrong,” Rhaegar corrected him, anger apparent on his usually calm face. “Brandon Stark thought I hurt his sister. Tell me, Viserys…What would you do if anyone hurt Daenerys?”

That answer was easy.

“Hurt him too.”

“Well, there you have it. Are you a traitor?”

“No.”

“Well, then…Lord Rickard only came to help his son. Father was wrong to kill him. No, King ought to kill a man with fire. Fire is no champion, Vis. It is only fire. Do you understand?”

Viserys believed he understood, but there was another question lingering on his lips.

“What about the pretender? Was he a traitor?”

His brother shook his head. “No, he was not.”

Viserys realized at once that his brother didn’t want to speak about this matter.

“Do I still have to go to the Vale?”

Rhaegar nodded his head in confirmation. “You will go to the Vale and you will make many friends. It will be good for you, Vis.”

Viserys couldn’t help but frown.

“Can I write to you?”

Rhaegar gave him a surprised look. “Since when are you interested in writing, little brother?”

“I don’t like it, but it’s the only way we will be able to talk.”

Rhaegar smiled warmly and leaned closer to pull him into an embrace. Viserys was surprised by that. Not even father had ever embraced him.

“I shall write to you as often as possible and answer all your letters. I promise.”

…


	6. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella had hoped with all her heart that her son would have one more son, but that her good-daughter would bear two babes was a blessing indeed, though her little granddaughter had been born sightless or at least that is what Maester had told her after delivering the babe into Rhaella’s arms.

Now, as she was watching the sleeping babes, she couldn’t help but be happy and sad at once. The oldest babe was the very picture of her oldest son, all silver-haired and deep violet eyes that were nearly black. It were Rhaegar’s eyes and her grandson’s eyes that were staring back at her whenever the little babe opened his eyes, though at times they also resembled her oldest grandson’s eyes. The other babe took more after Lady Lyanna, as she was born with a patch of brown hair atop her head and these pale unseeing eyes that had looked grey at the first sight.

Compared to her brother, the little girl was awfully quiet. The boy had come squalling and red-faced into the world, but the girl had made not much more than a small whimper. No, in temper the boy resembled more Lady Lyanna, who had been cursing and screaming throughout the whole delivery and had nearly frightened the other ladies attending to the birth.

_Undignified_, some of the younger ladies had called it, but these maidens knew nothing of the woes of childbirth and thus she had forgiven them the moment they had uttered these headless words.

“Have you decided on a name?” Rhaella asked Rhaegar, who sat next to Lady Lyanna’s bed, who had been prescribed two weeks bed-rest, an order she had ignored more than once or so the servants had told Rhaella. A good dozen of times the girl had been seen sneaking around to see her oldest son, instead of simply calling for his nursemaid.

Said nursemaid had complained about that to Rhaella, but she couldn’t fault the girl for her actions. Rhaella had done the same with Rhaegar and later with Viserys.

Aemon was also there, watching the babes with a quiet and serious expression.

“Visenya for a girl,” Rhaegar added without hesitation, but the expression on Lady Lyanna’s face told Rhaella that she didn’t quite approve of his choice of name. “I have not thought of a name for a boy. I was sure it would be a girl. Perhaps Jaehaerys?”

“Jaehaerys. Visenya. Aegon,” Lady Lyanna muttered to herself and squeezed the bedding. “Do you know no other names?”

Rhaegar chuckled. “As if there isn’t a Lord Brandon in every single Stark generation.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean we have to follow into their footsteps,” Lady Lyanna admitted and jerked her head at the crib. “May I suggest a name for our little girl?”

Rhaegar nodded his head and smiled warmly. “I am all ears.”

“Alysanne,” Lady Lyanna announced solemnly. “A Targaryen name that is well-liked in the North and fits her Northern coloring.”

Rhaella was surprised by the name, but it fitted. It was true, Queen Alysanne had been well-liked in the North. _Perhaps that will help to heal wounds, _Rhaella thought, but the more cynical part of her cautioned her against such vain hopes. _Or they will think it an insult._

“Alysanne it is,” Rhaegar agreed. “And our little boy?”

“May I make a suggestion for my grandson’s name?” she asked and lifted Aemon from her lap, his dark eyes following the movement of her head even as she placed him on the carpet below.

Lady Lyanna gave a hesitant nod. “What name do you have in mind, your Grace?”

Rhaella smiled and touched the babe’s soft silver hair.

“A name I had in mind for my own son, but Aerys always insisted that his sons ought to be called after Kings, but I have always been fond of the dragonlords of old. How about Gaemon? Gaemon the Glorious must have been a capable man if they gave him the moniker ‘The Glorious’.

“Gaemon,” Lady Lyanna repeated the name a handful more times. “It sounds similar to Aemon. I like it.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in approval.

“Well, I am just glad it is not Aerys.”

Rhaella was shocked Rhaegar would suggest something like that, but when he saw her horrified face, he started to laugh.

That stunned her even more. It was such a rare occurrence to hear her son laugh.

“I was jesting, mother,” Rhaegar said and drew closer, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I was merely jesting.”

Rhaella gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and pulled Aemon back into her lap after he had walked around the room to admire the colorful tapestries embellished with golden dragons.

“Did you like the dragons?” she asked her always quiet grandson.

“They are pretty,” he replied and chuckled. “I want one.”

Rhaella chuckled as well and kissed the top of his head.

“And your brother and sister? Do you like them too?”

Aemon took another glance at the sleeping children and frowned as if he didn’t know what to make of them.

“They are boring,” he gave his opinion and searched his father’s face. “I want Vis back. He is not boring. He always plays ‘Slay the dragon’ with me.”

Rhaella nodded her head in understanding. She knew that game very well. It included Viserys pretending to be a dragon and chasing her daughter and grandson through the entire castle.

“What about Daenerys?” Lady Lyanna asked. “You can play with her.”

Aemon frowned again. “She only wants to play with her stupid cat.”

Rhaella laughed and gave Rhaegar an amused look. “Mayhaps we should get another cat?”

Rhaegar’s smile faded at once.

“Rhaenys’ cat is bad enough. Not another one, mother. These bothersome beasts leave hairs everywhere.”

“Well,” Rhaella began. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to send for Aegon?”

Rhaegar gave her a serious look as if to say: _‘This is a bad moment to bring this topic up, mother’_.

Rhaella quickly overplayed her earlier question.

“Well, they will grow,” Rhaella told Aemon. “And then they will not be boring at all.”

Aemon gave her a hesitant smile.

“When they are bigger. Like me. Right?”

Rhaella laughed and praised him for his proper answer. He was an easy child, but he could be stubborn too and sometimes he had worse temper tantrums than Viserys, but so were all children. They never liked it when things didn’t go their way.

“Indeed, when you are bigger.”

“Why did you avoid my question, Rhaegar?” she asked her son later after they had left Lady Lyanna to rest and had left her grandson in his nursemaid’s hands. “Aegon is five. How long do you want to wait to acquaint the boys with each other? Aemon asked me a week to turn a go if Daenerys is his sister?”

Rhaegar sighed deeply. “I asked Elia and she also agrees that the boys must meet, but she wants to wait until they are a bit older.”

“She doesn’t want Aegon around Lady Lyanna,” Rhaella gave the real truth. “And that is understandable, but for the good of the realm, it must be done. We cannot have them become estranged, no matter what her relatives think. I know they think the boy a bastard, but what Dorne thinks and the realm thinks are two different things.”

“Perhaps Rhaenys should accompany Aegon? She is older than Aegon and understands these matters much better.”

Rhaella was pleased with this suggestion.

“Then, I shall write Elia myself. It is time Rhaenys and Aegon pay me a visit. I missed my oldest grandchildren.”

Rhaegar gave her a thankful look.

“I shall leave it to you, mother.”

Rhaella returned his words with a smile.

“I am glad that I can be of help.”

…


	7. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

“Stop being such a baby!” Rhaenys grumbled for a hundred time since their departure from King’s Landing. Aegon was usually a ray of sunshine, but now he was skulking like a little babe that had lost its favorite toy.

“I don’t like it here,” Aegon threw back, his crop of silver hair hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. “It’s wet and the clouds look scary. I don’t like thunder. Why do I have to come here?”

Rhaenys sighed and pulled him along the stone steps leading from the beach to castle Dragonstone. The guardsmen and even her Grand-Uncle Lewyn were giving her impatient looks.

“This is Dragonstone,” Rhaenys tried to explain as they started to climb the steps one after another, the strong wind blowing her hair into her face. “The ancient seat of House Targaryen. We were both be born here, brother. And one day you shall be the Prince of Dragonstone.”

Aegon lifted his head to search her face, his purple eyes wide and his nose wrinkled in displeasure.

“I don’t want this castle. It smells of fish and smoke. And I don’t like dark clouds. It means there will be thunder and I hate thunder.”

Rhaenys sighed and pulled Aegon up the next step.

“I told you before, Aegon. Thunder cannot hurt you and it can be quite sunny at Dragonstone too,” she explained and angled her head to search Ser Lewyn’s face. “Isn’t that so, Grand-Uncle? You have been here numerous times.”

“Indeed,” her Grand-Uncle agreed and grimaced when a spray of rain met his face. “Days at Dragonstone can be full of sunshine and you will have plenty of time to enjoy them, your Grace.”

Aegon gave him a disbelieving look. “It still smells like smoke.”

Rhaenys had heard enough and pulled Aegon up the last part of the staircase. Reaching the top of the steps, it was only a short distance to the castle gates. Along the way, they were met by Ser Bonifer Hasty, a tall and serious knight that held her grandmother’s favor and was currently the captain of the guards of Dragonstone.

When the gates were opened with a loud groan, Ser Bonifer’s greeting was drowned out.

“Welcome, your Grace,” Ser Bonifer greeted them and waved his hand at the opened gates. “Your grandmother awaits you inside. Please follow me.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenys replied politely and dropped a curtsy, before shifting her attention back to Aegon, who was still scowling and clinging to her hand.

Rhaenys felt the urge to throttle her brother and squeezed his hand.

Aegon finally understood what he was supposed to do and dropped a quick bow.

“Thank you, good Ser.”

Their grandmother awaited them in her solar, seated atop a wooden armchair furnished with red plush. She hadn’t changed much since Rhaenys had last laid eyes on her. Only a handful more wrinkles lined her eyes and her mouth. Otherwise, she was still a beautiful woman, all silver-haired and purple-eyed like Rhaenys’ father.

She smiled warmly when she spotted Rhaenys.

“If that isn’t my oldest granddaughter?” she asked softly and spread her arms wide. “I scarcely recognized you, sweet Rhaenys. Come closer and let me take a good look at you.”

Their grandmother’s smile didn’t falter as Rhaenys walked into her grandmother’s arms and leaned closer to place a kiss on her cheek, Aegon still holding tightly onto Rhaenys’ arm.

“It is good to find you hale, grandmother,” Rhaenys replied and smiled sweetly, jerking her head at Aegon. “Isn’t that true, Aegon?”

He gave a quiet nod. “Well met, grandmother.”

Queen Rhaella chuckled and leaned down to touch Aegon’s shoulder.

“Oh, are you afraid of me, little one?” she asked and placed a kiss on Aegon’s cheek. “I don’t bite. So much I can assure you.”

This seemed to stir Aegon’s pride and he finally let go of Rhaenys’ hand.

“I am not afraid, grandmother,” he replied and rubbed his cheek. “I am just tired and I don’t like the rain.”

“Of course, you are,” Rhaella replied and waved her hand at one of the servant girls. “We shall have supper a bit earlier than usual. And we shall also have cream pie afterwards.”

The expression on Aegon’s face had changed within the matter of a heartbeat.

“Cream pie?” he asked as if their grandmother had offered him a piece of paradise.

“Indeed,” their grandmother confirmed. “I was told it is your favorite. Is it true?”

Aegon nodded his head enthusiastically.

“I love cream pie.”

Rhaenys was relieved and the rest of the evening passed without much complaint. Aegon didn’t even complain when Rhaenys brushed out his disheveled silver hair and had him change into more proper clothing.

When Aegon was ready, Rhaenys put on her new dress and joined her grandmother who had assembled the rest of their family.

Rhaenys recognized Aemon at once. They shared a similar coloring, dark-brown hair, and dark-indigo eyes. Rhaenys marveled at how much he had grown since she had last since him at age one.

Beside their grandmother was their Aunt, a silver-haired girl that was cradling a white kitten in her lap.

Rhaenys made use of the moment of silence to introduce herself, her gaze flickering to Aemon.”

“Well met, brother,” she said and graced him with a warm smile. “It has been a long time that we have last seen each other. I doubt you can recall my last visit.”

Aegon stayed close to her side and introduced himself as well.

“Well met, brother,” he mumbled and sounded unsure and fearful.

Aemon smiled openly at Rhaenys. “I like the books you sent me, sister. Grandmother reads them for me every night.”

Rhaenys was pleased to hear this and patted Aegon’s shoulder.

“Aegon likes it too when I read for him. Sometimes, he is reading for me as well to improve on his letters.”

Aemon’s eyes widened in wonder. “You can read and write?”

Aegon’s breast swelled with pride.

“Of course, I am nearly six.”

“I have nearly learned all my letters,” Aemon replied quickly. “Soon I will be able to write and read too.”

“You can’t,” Aegon insisted stubbornly. “Five-year old’s cannot read and write.”

Rhaenys pulled Aegon’s shoulder and gave him a chiding look.

“That is not true. I could read when I was four, brother. Age has nothing to do with it, only practice.”

Aegon looked unhappy with her answer and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I can ride with a pony,” he said and gave Aemon a challenging look. “Can you ride a pony?”

Aemon nodded his head in confirmation.

“I can ride my pony. It is called Comet. What is yours called?”

Aegon finally seemed to forget his sullen mood.

“Vhagar,” he replied proudly. “After one of the Conqueror’s dragons.”

Aemon wrinkled his brows in confusion.

“Why did you not name it after Balerion? That sounds far scarier.”

“Rhaenys’ cat is already called Balerion,” Aegon replied quickly and flashed Rhaenys’ an accusing look. “She forbade me to call my pony liked her cat.”

“You have a cat?” their Aunt asked suddenly and continued to scratch her kitten’s head, making the little one purr with happiness. “I have one too. Mine is called Moonbeam.”

Aegon’s purple eyes darted to the kitten and then back to his Aunt.

Then, he burst out in loud laughter.

Aemon laughed too, covering his mouth with his hands. Rhaenys slapped her brother’s shoulder when he saw their Aunt’s hurt expression.

“Aegon,” she snapped. “That is not very polite. Stop your laughing.”

“Forgive me…,” Aegon stuttered and pointed at the cat. “But Moonbeam…that is such a stupid name.”

“Aegon!” Rhaenys chided him once more, but it was already too late. Their Aunt’s violet eyes were narrowed and her nose was scrunched as she clutched her kitten to herself.

“Moonbeam is not stupid! You two are stupid!” the little girl snapped back Aegon and Aemon, her eyes burning with tears and rage.

“Of course not, sweetling,” her grandmother assured Daenerys and kissed her head, before flashing Aegon and Aemon a damning look. “Moonbeam is a perfectly fine name. Isn’t that so?”

Aemon seemed to recognize the severity of the situation and nodded his head in confirmation.

“It is a girlish name, but a good one,” he replied diplomatically.

Aegon replied bluntly as ever.

“It is a stupid name. I say so.”

Daenerys buried her head in the crook of her mother’s neck and started to weep.

Rhaenys sighed deeply and her grandmother gave Aegon a stern look.

“And I am the ruler of this castle, grandson,” her grandmother said. “And now I ask you to apologize.”

Aegon looked like he had been slapped.

“Apologize for what?”

“For calling me _stupid!_” their Aunt threw back, rubbing her tears away with the hem of her violet dress. “_Stupid_ is a dirty word. You shouldn’t say it.”

“I can say what I want,” Aegon insisted stubbornly. “I am a Prince.”

Rhaenys knew it was already too late when her grandmother started to shake her head.

“A Prince that will go to bed without supper. That is if you refuse to apologize.”

Aegon’s gaze was full of defiance.

“I won’t,” was his answer and thus Rhaenys was left to take supper alone with her grandmother, Aemon and Daenerys.

“A pity that father isn’t here,” Rhaenys remarked as she poked the untouched piece of cream pie. She wanted to eat it, but felt pity for her brother, who had been sent off in company of Aemon and Daenerys to prepare for bed. “I hoped to see him and meet Lady Lyanna.”

Her grandmother looked surprised.

“You want to meet her?”

Rhaenys nodded her head. “She is Aemon’s mother. I want to see what kind of a person she is.”

“Very spirited and adventurous,” her grandmother replied and poured Rhaenys a cup of tea. “And your brother? What do you think of him?”

“He is less stubborn than Aegon,” Rhaenys replied and brought the cup to her lips. The tea was too sweet, but she overplayed it with a quick smile. “I suppose that is a good thing.”

“Aegon is a willful child,” her grandmother replied. “He is much like Rhaegar and Viserys in that regard. Aemon and Aegon will make good companions. He too has his ‘sullen moments’, Aemon just knows when he is overstepping his bounds, but Aegon has yet to learn it.”

“Oh, Aegon does know his bounds,” Rhaenys assured her grandmother. “He would have never dared to behave like that in mother’s presence. He just misses his friends and it usually takes a bit of time for him to get used to new people.”

“You don’t have to apologize for Aegon,” her grandmother assured her in return. “It is partly my fault. I should have shown more presence in his life, but I like my life here. I also didn’t want to be in your mother’s way. I am no longer the Queen.”

“You are the Queen Mother,” Rhaenys replied and put a piece of cream pie into her mouth. “And my mother could use your help. She has been sick again.”

“I heard about it,” her grandmother replied sadly. “She is writing to me to keep me informed about you two, but I rather not. King’s Landing was never _my true home_.”

Rhaenys understood and decided to change the topic.

“It is not going to be easy with Aegon. Don’t expect him to get along with Aemon immediately. It also took him a while to get along with Harry and Quent.”

“Harry?” Queen Rhaella asked in confusion.

“Harrold Hardyng…Harry is was Aegon calls him,” Rhaenys explained. “Gods, that boy is even worse than Aegon. They are always up to no good and Quent…he is always caught in the middle of it. He is too quiet for his own good. Arianne would fit much better in their company, but she is a girl.”

“And I suppose you are trying to keep them in line?” her grandmother asked.

“I am trying my best,” Rhaenys replied. “But I will not be there forever. I ought to go to the Reach to acquaint myself with my future home. At least, that is what mother thinks.”

“A good idea,” her grandmother agreed. “Mayhaps I shall send Daenerys to Highgarden as well when she is a bit older. She needs female companions. She is far too boyish for her own good.”

Rhaenys gave an understanding nod.

“Lady Margaery is only a year older than her. They should get along splendidly, but be careful, grandmother. Mace Tyrell might take it as a sign that you are going for another match with the Reach.”

“What a smart girl you are,” her grandmother said and gave her a proud smile. “But you don’t have to fret about that. I know how to handle Lord Mace Tyrell. His mother and I are in constant correspondence and she knows well that I have other plans for Daenerys. Your father wants her to wed Aemon.”

Rhaenys was surprised by this.

“Why that?”

“Simple,” her grandmother replied and poured tea into her empty cup. “That way nobody can say your father is favoring your brother with a powerful match.”

“So much is true,” Rhaenys replied. “And Daenerys seems like a nice girl. A bit sensitive, but that will change quickly once she spends a bit of time in company of Lady Margaery and her horde of golden flowers.

“My daughter is a soft-hearted girl,” her grandmother replied. “But Aegon ought to be careful. She can be quite hot-headed.”

Rhaenys chuckled. “That will be good for Aegon.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon is six years old.
> 
> Aemon is five years old.
> 
> Daenerys if four years old.
> 
> Rhaenys is like three years older than Aegon so around seven or eight. 
> 
> And yes, Aemon and Aegon will get along. Aegon is just a spoiled little shit, like most boys that age. Aemon is just a bit holding back because he knows that you do not displease Rhaella without consequences. Aegon and Rhaella didn't really spent that much time together due to Rhaella speding most of her time at Dragonstone. She does not like King's Landing very much...I think you know why. Bad memories.


	8. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna squeezed her eyes against the bright sunlight creeping over the blackened ruins of Summerhall. She had come here before, scarcely a moon after her escape from King Aerys’ henchmen.

Not much had changed ever since. The blackened ruins lay motionless in the valley, greenery meandering its way over the crumbling stone walls and towers. Trees could also be found here and there, growing out of the ruins and melted glass that littered every part of the ancient ruin.

“It could be accomplished within a few years,” Rhaegar’s iron voice rang in her ears and caused her to lift her head while she was trying her best to keep her little girl from running off.

Alysanne was barely one year old, but it was hard to keep him in place, despite her impediment.

“Mam!” she complained and pulled on Lyanna’s hair, causing her to gasp in pain. “Mam!”

Lyanna sighed, pulled her little girl’s hand away, and picked her girl from the ground before making her way back to Rhaegar, who was carrying a snoring Gaemon.

Lyanna was not surprised that he had fallen asleep. Her little boy had been running about all day, admiring the butterflies hovering over the red flowers growing all over the hill.

“Mam!” Alysanne called out again and Lyanna took her little hand before she was able to grab her hair again. “Mam!”

“Aye, I heard you,” Lyanna whispered to her little girl and touched her cheek, assuring her that she was here. “And I am here.”

Then, she shifted her attention back to Rhaegar, who had been watching her with an amused expression.

“Next time it will be my hair that suffers,” Rhaegar assured her and tousled Alysanne’s dark hair. “Put her down. She needs is not as helpless as you think.”

Lyanna was hesitant but placed her little girl unto the meadow that spread over the ridge leading up to the castle ruins.

Alysanne cooed happily as she fell on her bottom, tearing out a handful of flowers as she crawled over the wet grass.

Lyanna’s gaze followed her as Rhaegar knelt down beside her,

“Gaemon is a heavy sleeper,” Lyanna admired her son’s ability to sleep in such a cursed place.

“He is exhausted,” Rhaegar replied in a low voice. “And you still haven’t said anything about my plans?”

Lyanna sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She was a Lady of the North, not a builder. Yet, she was sure that it would cost a great amount of gold to restore Summerhall back to its old glory.

“Do you have enough coin to rebuild Summerhall?”

“I spoke with my mother. It won’t be as grand as in the past, but Dragonstone’s coffers would be able to finance the rebuilding of Summerhall and on the long term the expenses could be covered through the resettlement of the lordship,” Rhaegar explained with an assuring smile. “Besides, one day Aemon will have need of a lordship and Aegon will one day rule Dragonstone.”

“And then we will have to leave,” Lyanna replied in understanding, her gaze never leaving Alysanne, who was pulling out another handful of flowers. “I suppose your mother and I will have to pester my Aemon until the end of our days.”

“I am sure Aemon won’t mind,” Rhaegar added with a chuckle and jerked his head at the cursed ruin looming ahead. “But what of Gaemon and Alysanne? You only ever speak about your plans for Aemon, but never of _them_.”

“Gaemon is a third son,” Rhaegar added and regarded their sleeping son in his arms. “Mayhaps he might be interested in joining the Kingsguard. Only time will tell.”

Lyanna didn’t like the sound of that, though it certainly was a reasonable consideration.

“What if Gaemon wants a family of his own?”

“Then I shall find him a pretty Lady,” Rhaegar promised and pondered over her question for a brief moment, before continuing to speak. “Perhaps Lady Cersei Lannister’s daughter. She is only a bit older than Gaemon and then Lord Tywin might finally stop pestering me.”

Lyanna wasn’t sure if she liked the idea, but graced Rhaegar with a smile.

“What about Alysanne?”

“It will not be easy to find her a match with a High Lord,” Rhaegar explained. “My mother suggested sending her the Faith.”

Lyanna froze, horrified by the idea that her daughter would be given to these serious women sitting all day over their prayer books.

“No,” Lyanna insisted firmly. “My daughter will never go to these old women.”

“Do you really think I would agree to that?” Rhaegar asked and laughed, his cheeks suddenly flushed. Then, he pointed at Summerhall. “Alysanne will have a fine man to love and care for her. This I promise.”

Lyanna smiled, though she was not sure if Rhaegar would be able to keep all these promises, no matter how much he wanted to.

Yet, that was still far in the future, an uncertain future…

“Aemon will be happy to have Summerhall,” she said and smiled when she saw Alysanne crawling back to her side.

She must have heard Lyanna’s and Rhaegar’s voices.

Rhaegar had noticed this too and smiled proudly.

“She is a clever girl,” Lyanna remarked and opened her arms to receive her little girl.

Alysanne chuckled and Rhaegar was about to open his mouth to speak, but the sound of footfalls caused him to turn around.

It was Ser Arthur, his armor cast in golden sunlight.

“Your Grace,” he said and searched Rhaegar’s face. “Lord Fell has sent a rider. There are urgent tidings from the capital.”

Rhaegar rose to his feet, though carefully as not to wake their son. Ever quietly, he put the child into Ser Arthur’s arms and picked the raven scroll from Ser Arthur’s gloved hands.

Lyanna held a squirming Alysanne in her arms as Rhaegar unrolled the piece of paper and read quickly, his elated expression changing back to its usual somber expression.

Suddenly, his dark indigo eyes were searching for hers.

“It seems Lord Balon Greyjoy wants to stir up a Rebellion.”

Lyanna shuddered, clutching Alysanne close to her chest.

“Does that mean there will be war again?”

Rhaegar gave a hesitant nod.

“Most likely, which is why we must make haste. I shall return to the capital and you may travel back to Dragonstone with the children. Perhaps it would be wise to send Rhaenys back to Elia. Aegon shall remain at Dragonstone…I don’t want to scare him.”

Lyanna didn’t like the sound of that, but there was naught she could do to help Rhaegar.

Women could only wait and watch. It was a terrible fate and angered her.

…


	9. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

“They are coming!They are coming!“ Aegon’s bright rang through the solar, causing Rhaella to lift her head from her embroidery. Within the blink of a moment, she had completely forgotten about her work. “I can see father and Ser Gerold…and Ser Arthur!”

Rhaella wasn’t surprised, for Aegon had his face plastered against the painted glass. He had been sitting there almost every day since he had found out that his father had gone to war, though Rhaella had tried her best to hide the ugly truth from her grandchildren. Eventually, one of the page boys had blabbered out the truth in front of Aegon and there had been no peace to be had. Rhaella had tried her best to explain that a battlefield was not the best place for a young Prince like him, but Aegon had been inconsolable and had refused to speak to her in the following week.

That had been until Lady Lyanna had returned, for then Aegon’s attention had been elsewhere. Rhaella had been most worried about Lady Lyanna’s presence and Aegon had been watching her warily as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her, but one day he had sat down beside them while Lady Lyanna, Aemon, and Daenerys were playing cyvasse, a game well-known to Aegon due to his Dornish relatives. Suddenly, the boy had no longer been scowling in the corner of his room and had started to explain the rules of the game while Daenerys and Aemon had listened with rapt attention. In that moment, Aegon had been all like her father. King Jaehaerys had been a well-read man and had often taken great delight in explaining things to Rhaella and her brother. Pride was also a trait Aegon inherited from his Targaryen kin but it wasn’t the worst kind of character trait. A King needed to exhibit an aura of confidence or no lord, nor small or big, would follow him, though Rhaella was also aware how pride could lead to one’s doom. Aerys’ fate had shown that.

Yet, Aegon was still a child and it had eased her nerves to see him smile about his father’s return.

.Rhaella herself had scarcely slept through a single night in the last six moons and with every raven that had arrived at Dragonstone she had been hesitant to break the seal.

The war had begun in the Westerlands, where Euron Greyjoy had smashed the Lannister Fleet, before spreading to the Riverlands where the Ironborn had been defeated beneath the walls of Seagard. There, as the battle had raged Lord Jason Mallister has slain Roderik Greyjoy, Balon Greyjoy’s oldest son. With the death of Balon Greyjoy’s heir, the tide of the battle had turned. Yet, that had not been the end of the rebellion, for Rhaegar had to chase them all the way back to Pyke to put an end to Lord Balon Greyjoy’s kingly ambitions.

Thus, the Greyjoy Rebellion had been ended with the Siege of Pyke and the death of Balon Greyjoy’s second son, Maron Greyjoy. _Squashed by a collapsing stone tower_, Viserys had written to her in his beloved and unrecognizable penmanship. He had written little else, but Rhaegar had done so. Twenty letters she had counted, detailing the most important parts of the war and how his younger brother had endured the hardships of the campaign.

Rhaella had been thankful for every letter. Viserys had been gone for six years, but for Rhaella he was still her little boy.

_And he is finally coming home_, she hoped and rose to her feet, joining Aegon’s side. Below she spotted numerous riders and she immediately recognized Rhaegar by his gleaming black armor and Ser Arthur and Gerold Hightower by their white cloaks.

All in all, it seemed that Rhaegar hadn’t brought a big retinue, but that was no surprise to her. Her son had the tendency to travel lightly.

She still saw no glimpse of Viserys, but perhaps he had simply changed so much that she didn’t recognize him. _Could a mother forget her son_, Rhaella wondered and turned around when she heard the sound of Lady Lyanna’s footsteps on the thick carpet.

She wore a black dress and her brown hair was braided over her shoulder, fastened ruby clasp. It were simple garments, but lovely to behold. She would make a good appearance at court, but that would never be.

“Mam!” Alysanne exclaimed as she buried her fat fists in Lady Lyanna’s cape. “Mam!

Gaemon said nothing, holding onto Lady Lyanna’s arm as he tried to walk on his small feet. They were twins, but looking at them it was hard to see. Gaemon had inherited the silver hair and purple eyes of his father and little Alysanne was all her mother, grey-eyed and dark-haired. A dragon and a wolf.

“They are back!” Aegon informed them as well, his voice ringing loudly through the solar. “We should go down to the hall!”

Aemon, who had been sitting beside Aegon, smiled at his mother.

“I can take Gaemon,” he offered quickly and received a thankful smile from Lady Lyanna, who allowed Aemon to take hold of his little brother’s hand. The boy didn’t protest and was smiling happily as he pulled on Aemon’s black tunic embroidered with a red dragon. It was Rhaella’s work and it seemed her grandson was enchanted by it.

“Mam!” Alysanne exclaimed again as she was placed on the ground and Lady Lyanna took her hand. The girl was blind but agile like a squirrel. “Mam!”

A moment later, Daenerys stormed into the solar, chasing after her cat.

Rhaella picked her up before she could escape, allowing the cat to flee beneath the table.

Daenerys frowned. “Now Moonbeam is gone.”

Rhaella chuckled and placed her back on the ground, eying her bare feet with displeasure. “Where did you leave your slippers and your nursemaid?”

Daenerys blushed and looked down at her toes.

“Oh, Mary has them.”

Mary was her nursemaid and entered the room a heartbeat later, carrying Daenerys’ slippers.

“See,” Daenerys replied quickly and pointed at the slippers. “There.”

Rhaella couldn’t be angry with her daughter and brushed her silver hair out of her face. “Well, I suppose that means everyone is ready, isn’t that so?”

“Aye,” Aegon added anxiously. “Let’s go.”

Rhaella allowed the others to go first while she watched Daenerys put on her slippers. Then, they followed suit.

Rhaegar was the first one to greet her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He looked thin, his silver hair shorter than Rhaella remembered.

“It is good to see you well, my son,” Rhaella said and kissed his cheek, reveling in his presence, though Viserys’ absence was starting to worry her.

Next came Lady Lyanna, who received a kiss and then came the children, one after another. Aegon was quickly lifted in Rhaegar’s arms and received an unhappy complaint about leaving him behind, to which Rhaegar found a quick way to silence him. “I brought you a present.”

Luckily, Aegon was immediately enraptured by the idea of receiving an Ironborn shield to decorate his chamber, but then Aemon came with many questions about the sea battle. Rhaegar answered the questions as best as possible before he moved on to Alysanne and Gaemon, who only managed a handful of half-hazard sentences.

At last, Daenerys stepped forward and was quick to apologize that she hadn’t brought her cat to greet Rhaegar.

“Oh, I think he shall be forgiven this once,” Rhaegar declared at last and swept his gaze over his retinue of knights and squires. Lord Monford Velaryron and a good dozen of men-at-arms were also there, laughing and smiling at the silly question. Rhaegar was not prone to jesting and thus it didn’t surprise Rhaella that some of the men looked stunned. “What do the others think?”

They all muttered their agreement and thus Moonbeam the Cat was pardoned by the King, which seemed to please her little girl.

That night they had a proper feast, a seldom event since Rhaegar had taken the crown. Aerys had loved lavish feasts, tourneys, and hunts where he could show his kingly presence, but Rhaegar rarely indulged in such endeavors.

But things were different now. They had quenched a rebellion. Peace was restored and Rhaella had insisted that the event would be properly celebrated.

She had called for maids from the nearby village and had ordered spices and meat from the merchants harboring in Driftmark. She had even asked Lord Monford to send her a minstrel, a plump fellow wearing a motley of crisscrossed bolts of turquoise and white, the colors of House Valeryon. _Pimple_, they called him, a name given to him by Lord Monford’s bastard brother, young Aurane Waters.

The dishes her maids had cooked up had pleased her even more. There were three different courses being served: A soup of garlic and mint and with a pinch of whipped cream on top, honeyed pig-feet covered with sauce, parsley, and mint and at last cakes made from cherries, apples and peaches, all covered with even more cream and plenty of sugar, just like her grandchildren liked it.

The children certainly enjoyed their cakes while the knights enjoyed the Arbor Gold that Rhaella had been gifted by Lord Mace Tyrell.

The minstrel delighted them even more whenever he played up his jolly tunes and showed them a trick which included juggling ten colorful balls while standing on one foot.

Six times the poor man was asked to perform this task until one of Lord Valeryon’s knights attempted the same, nearly stumbling over his feet.

The drunken men howled with laughter and the children giggled madly.

By the time the eight hours had come and gone, Lady Lyanna went to settle the children for bed, though Aegon had protested vehemently.

“You promised to bring Viserys,” she remarked later when she found Rhaegar standing in the Room of the Painted Table, staring down into the black sea. “Where is he?”

“He refused to come,” Rhaegar explained as his dark indigo eyes found hers. “It seems he likes the Vale more than we anticipated.”

Rhaella had hoped for this, but her heart still ached to see her younger son.

“Well, perhaps in a year from now. He is a knight now, is he not?”

Rhaegar nodded his head in confirmation and brushed his hair out of his face.

“Aye, he killed two men, more than most squires can say about themselves, though he was quite shaken afterward. I have never seen him so disturbed.”

“And that bothers you?” Rhaella asked.

Rhaegar’s eyes widened.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Rhaella laughed and clutched her chest. “Of course not. I had feared that Aerys’ burnings numbed my boy against such horrors.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in understanding.

“Well, Viserys is nothing like father.”

Rhaella was pleased to hear it and drew closer, enclosing Rhaegar’s arm and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“So, what will you do with the Greyjoys?”

Rhaegar kissed her brow and squeezed her hand. “I have taken his boy hostage and I intend to send him to Mace Tyrell.”

“I suppose Jon disagreed with your idea?” Rhaella asked carefully.

“He thinks I should have killed Balon and his son, but I don’t want another Brandon Stark and Elbert Arryn. Balon is a fool, but he's still a father and perhaps the boy will prove smarter than him.”

“Indeed,” Rhaella agreed and smiled. She was pleased with his decision, though she wished Balon Greyjoy had found an early grave for his foolishness. “So, when will you return to King’s Landing?”

“In a week,” Rhaegar replied and smiled sadly. “I want to take Aegon and Aemon with me.”

This stunned Rhaella.

“Does Lyanna know?”

Rhaegar bit his lips.

“Not yet, mother. Well, I doubt she will be pleased, but I think it is time. The longer I wait the harder it will be for him.”

As a mother, Rhaella understood Lady Lyanna’s feelings, but she had also been forced to send away her son as a hostage. It was only right that Aemon would go to King’s Landing to foster a fruitful relationship with his brother.

“He will welcome it…Aegon told him colorful tales about King’s Landing,” Rhaella assured her son. “Do you want me to speak with her?”

“No, I shall do it myself.”

With these words, Rhaella returned to her chambers and was surprised to find the candles lighted.

When she noticed the presence of a person seated in the armchair beside the hearth her heart nearly stopped.

“Mother,” the young man said as he rose to his feet and lowered the hood. “Have I changed so much?”

Rhaella blinked once, twice and a third time, before she finally recognized her boy. His face was still much the same, sharp cheekbones and lilac eyes, but his hair was nearly black.

It was Viserys.

“Did you paint your hair?” Rhaella asked in disbelief, tears burning in her eyes. “Why?”

Her son graced her with a crooked smile.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Aye,” Rhaella laughed and enclosed him in a tight hug. “And you did surprise me, my son.”

…


	10. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

_Prince Viserys has grown into a man_, that was the first thought that had entered Lyanna’s mind when she laid eyes on Rhaegar’s younger brother. He was no longer the thin and pale-faced boy that had wept whenever he was denied his favorite dish. No, Prince Viserys had grown into a graceful young man like Rhaegar, though he still lacked his brother’s soft beauty as Rhaella liked to call it.

_He takes after Aerys_, the Queen Mother had told her more than once.

Lyanna couldn’t say if that was true, for she had never faced the King in person. She had only seen him from afar, but back then he had been in the worst state possible, his ragged beard reaching nearly to his boots and his nails long and yellow like piss. He had looked the monster he had turned out to be. Just thinking that this man had laid hands on Queen Rhaella made Lyanna shudder and realize that Rhaegar had spared her from a terrible fate, though she supposed he would have rather burned her alive than lay a hand on her.

_His henchmen did that for him_, Lyanna thought and searched Prince Viserys’ face. Prince Viserys might look like his father, but he was very different from his father. _I took after my Lady Mother, but I never had her grace_. _Father never failed to remind me of my failures._

Thinking of her father made her bitter and sad at once. She hadn’t wanted him to die, but she wouldn’t have been able to fulfill her duty either.

“Did you slay a Kraken, brother?” Princess Daenerys asked excitedly. She was sat cross-legged on the ground beside Viserys’ feet, her cat running circles around her and waving his tail in whirling motions. “Aegon said that the Greyjoys command krakens.”

Princess Viserys threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, no. They had no krakens, but they had mighty axes and some of them looked like wild beasts.”

Daenerys looked slightly disappointed and pulled Moonbeam into her lap, rubbing her hand over his big belly. “Well, did you slay one of these wild beasts?”

Viserys stopped laughing at once, a serious expression taking hold of his face.

“I did,” he confirmed and tightened his grip on the handle of his chair. “It was not fun.”

“Why not?” Aegon asked and jumped to his feet. “Are you not proud to be a knight?”

Aemon nodded his head in agreement but remained seated. “You are a knight, aren’t you, Uncle?”

“Aye,” Viserys replied in disbelief and looked at his mother, who was seated beside Lyanna. “I am really a knight.”

“War is no game, children,” Rhaella added and graced Aegon and Aemon a warm smile. “And being a knight is not like in the tales you have heard.”

“But the Ironborn are evil,” Prince Aegon insisted firmly. “King Aegon also burned Harren the Black, because he was evil.”

“Evil men or not,” Queen Rhaella replied unhappily and put down her embroidery. “These men also have women and children that will grieve for them.”

Aegon’s eyes widened as if a sudden realization had entered his young mind.

“Oh, I never thought about it that way,” he said, and as he allowed himself to fall back into his cushioned chair. “But you are right, grandmother.”

Rhaella seemed pleased with Aegon’s answer and leaned over to pat Prince Aegon’s hand. “You are young. There are a great many things you still have to learn.”

Lyanna believed she knew what she was referring to, for neither Aemon nor Aegon were aware of King Aerys’ crimes.

Lyanna leaned forward, watching her son closely. As usual, he had listened to Viserys’ story in solemn silence, but she had seen the glint of excitement in his eyes whenever he spoke about the battles he had seen.

It was quite clear that Aemon desired a similar future, but that was no surprise to Lyanna. He had grown up hearing heroic tales of knights. Truly, it was inevitable. Now no day was going by when he wasn’t running about, slaying invisible enemies with his wooden swords.

Seeing this, it made her all the more aware that Rhaegar was right.

If Aemon stayed here he would continue living on in his fantasy world. He needed to see the truth, no matter how painful it would be.

She knew so much, but it wasn’t any less painful for her to see him go.

She was glad that Rhaegar had at least delayed his departure for a few more moons to prepare herself emotionally.

“Lyanna,” Rhaella’s calm voice called her back to the present. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Forgive me, my mind was straying,” she apologized quickly and realized that Daenerys, Aegon, and Viserys were already standing at the door. “What did you say, your Grace?”

Only Aemon had remained beside her, his dark eyes searching her face.

“I only reminded the children, that it was time for supper,” Rhaella explained and graced Lyanna with a smile. “Lord Benjen announced his coming, didn’t he?

Lyanna nodded her head in confirmation, though she was surprised by Rhaella’s forward question.

“Uncle Benjen is coming?” Aemon asked, his face suddenly lightened up by a smile. “Really?”

“Aye, Uncle Benjen is coming,” she confirmed and placed a kiss on his cheek. “He promised so in his last raven.”

With this answer, the children were ushered out of the chamber to prepare for supper. Prince Viserys was the last one to leave and dropped a respectful bow before closing the door behind him.

“My son has turned into a true knight,” the Queen said proudly.

Lyanna smiled. “That he has.”

“Sadly, he will return to the Vale until he is of age,” Rhaella replied and sighed deeply. “Well, it was good to have him here…even if it was only for a short while.”

Lyanna was surprised to hear this. She had expected that Prince Viserys would remain here or that Rhaegar would find him a match. He had spoken about it more than once.

“I thought Rhaegar wanted him wed to Arianne Martell?”

“And perhaps he still plans to do that,” Rhaella replied. “But I would prefer someone else. I have heard some concerning rumors about the girl.”

Lyanna gave her a curious look. “Rumors?”

Rhaella looked embarrassed. “Some say the girl is no longer a maid.”

_I wasn’t a maid either_, she felt the urge to reply but decided it against in the last moment.

“Well, there are other maids,” Lyanna offered diplomatically, her mind fishing for a good example. “My brother has a daughter…Sansa. It might help to endear the former rebel lords to have Rickard Stark’s and Hoster Tully’s granddaughter wed to a Targaryen Prince. It would show unity.”

Rhaella smiled.

“How old is the girl?”

“My niece is a year younger than Daenerys,” Lyanna replied. “A bit young, but there is no need for Viserys to be wed in the next years. Rhaegar has enough heirs.”

“Having many sons means nothing, “ Rhaella countered. “Sickness and war could claim them.”

Lyanna gave Rhaella a knowing look. “Aegon the Unlikely was the fifth son. Nobody expected him to be King.”

“Indeed,” Rhaella added and rose to her feet, violet silk fluttering past Lyanna. “But that is not for me to decide. He is the King.”

_And the Queen’s kin wouldn’t like it if Prince Viserys were to wed Sansa_, Lyanna concluded.

…


	11. Benjen

**Benjen**

Dragonstone was a castle of twisted towers and walls of shining black stone. He had visited this place numerous times, but every time he was awed by its grim beauty.

Today, the sky was heavy with black clouds and a strong current made his cloak flap like the wings of a bat, but that was nothing compared to the sharp winds of the North.

When he reached the gates, he was greeted by a familiar man, Ser Bonifer Hasty, the Captain of the Guards of Dragonstone. During his time in King’s Landing, Benjen had seen him numerous times, attending council meetings on behalf of the Queen and had heard numerous rumors about him.

In his youth, he had supposedly courted the Queen, but given his low birth he had not been allowed to wed her. It seemed that even years after the Queen’s horrid marriage to King Aerys, she had not forgotten about the knight of her heart and had shown him all kinds of favors. The King didn’t seem to mind, but the courtiers were constantly whispering about it. Benjen couldn’t care less who the Queen Mother showed favors to or if she bedded the man in front of him, but like so many things Benjen couldn’t help but to consider such matters. With Lyanna’s “marriage” to King Rhaegar, they were irrevocably connected to the royal family, no matter how much Ned dislike this notion.

“Welcome back, Lord Benjen,” the solemn knight greeted him and led him into the castle and the Queen Mother’s solar. Unlike in the past, it was only Lyanna and her son Aemon that awaited him there.

Benjen marveled at how much his dear nephew had changed. He had grown at least a handful of inches and his features had lost the plumpness of youth so common to young children. No, his face had grown only longer, though his straight nose and his dark eyes betrayed his Targaryen birth.

“Uncle Benjen!” he exclaimed loudly and didn’t hesitate to jump into his arms, nuzzling his neck against Benjen’s shoulder. “Do you remember me?”

Benjen laughed and mustered his nephew from head to toe, pretending not to recognize him.

“No,” Benjen replied, feigning confusion. “Who are you, my young Lord?”

Aemon frowned in disbelief.

“You are lying.”

Benjen chuckled and placed a kiss on top of his head, before placing him back on the ground.

“Aye, I was lying. I would never forget my nephew.”

“And your sister I hope?” Lyanna added, a warm smile playing on her lips as she regarded Benjen from the distance, but remained standing beside the armchair made of red cherry wood. Its’s arms and feet were made of snarling dragons, like the castle itself.

“Of course,” Benjen replied and pulled his sister into a tight embrace, smelling sandalwood and lavender in her hair. It was a smell that reminded him of his mother. “Why would you think otherwise, dear sister?”

Lyanna’s warm breath tickled his neck, her grey eyes glittering with sadness.

Benjen knew that something was amiss when she had called upon him so urgently, but he didn’t ask her about it. He wanted to give her some time to enjoy in their reunion. It had been a year.

“You haven’t visited in nearly a year,” Lyanna complained and touched his cheek. “You are now a man.”

“And soon to be wed,” Benjen announced solemnly. It was Lady Dacey Mormont, the eldest daughter of Lady Maege Mormont, who had shared his camp during their campaign against the Greyjoy’s. He was sure that Ned would have preferred a better match for him, but he was the younger son. He had no reason to wed for power. Robb would inherit Winterfell one day and not Benjen.

Lyanna’s smile brightened. “Who is it?”

“Lady Dacey Mormont.”

“A good match,” Lyanna complimented.

“And a proper Northern woman. Well, you have my blessing,” she added and kissed his cheek once more.

Then, she let go of him and shifted her attention back to Aemon, who had watched them with curiosity.

“Will you bring your Lady to court, Uncle Benjen?”

Benjen was surprised to hear that and gave Lyanna a confused look.

Lyanna was quick to react and leaned down to press a kiss on Aemon’s cheek while her other hand pulled on his arm.

“Aemon….Would you leave us for a while?” she asked and her boy gave a solemn nod, though Benjen could see the disappointment in his dark eyes.

“But mother…,” he began to protest, but Benjen’s smile silenced him at once.

“You should listen to your mother. I shall attend to you later, nephew.”

Aemon nodded his head. “Promise?”

Benjen smiled. “Promise.”

When the door had closed behind the little Prince, Benjen shifted his attention back to Lyanna.

“What was that about King’s Landing?”

Lyanna exhaled deeply and crossed her arms in front of her.

“To put it bluntly: Rhaegar wants Aemon to go to King’s Landing and I hoped I could convince you to stay for a while longer…to make sure that Aemon settles in.”

Benjen understood her reasoning but wasn’t sure whether Dacey would like the idea of residing in King’s Landing.

“I shall accompany Robb to King’s Landing,” Benjen explained and squeezed Lyanna’s shoulder. “I could stay a while longer…” he trailed off.

Lyanna nodded her head and searched his gaze, her lips trembling with emotion.

“You know what court is like. Rhaegar thinks it will all work out perfectly, but Aemon will be alone. True, he will have Aegon and I do not deny that the boys get along well, but there are many others who will mislike my son. To have you there would be a great comfort to him.”

Benjen nodded his head in understanding, though his heart longed for home.

“I could stay another year,” Benjen offered. “But then I must return. Ned has plans for me. I have left him alone for too long.”

Lyanna seemed pleased with his offer and embraced him tightly.

“How can I ever repay you?”

Benjen chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t be silly, sister. There is no need for repayment.”

Lyanna smiled.

“It will also be good for Robb.”

“Aye,” Benjen laughed. “Ned tells me he is very excited about the prospect of going south.”

Lyanna laughed. “I supposed my nephew also dreams of becoming a knight like his Uncle?”

Benjen laughed. “Aye, I suppose that is the case.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Aemon and there will be a time jump.


	12. Aemon

**Aemon**

The blow against his helmet made his head squirm.

_Keep your shield up, you fool_, Aemon reminded himself for the hundred time and that day and barely managed to parry the next blow to his left.

He clenched his teeth as his brother’s sword clashed against his wooden shield and drove him backward. A handful of aggressive hacks followed and Aemon’s luck turned.

When Egg was getting this handsy it meant that his brother was losing his patience.

Watching his brother’s movement, he anticipated the next blow in time.

He lifted his shield in time and brought his blade forward, aiming at his brother’s weaker side.

The blade darted off his armor, bring forth a clinking sound, but that was only the beginning.

Aemon stepped backward and lifted his blade, feinting a blow to brother’s left side. Egg’s hasty movement betrayed his displeasure of having been outsmarted in the previous round engagement. In a real battle that could have meant, something Arthur never failed to remind him of.

Aemon went for it and brought his blade down on Egg’s left side, his blade ganging against his brother’s helmet.

The metal rang loudly and Aemon wasted no time to use Egg’s confusion to his advantage. He used his shield as a weapon and shoved Egg backward before aiming at his left side.

His brother could barely lift his blade, before Aemon’s blunted blade clashed with Egg’s arm.

A muffled cry of pain escaped him, the blade slithered out of his hand and lost his footing altogether.

_That’s it,_ Aemon knew and kicked Egg’s leg, causing him to fall unto his ass.

Aemon’s breathing was labored when pulled his helmet from his head and brought his blade to Egg’s neck.

“Well done,” Egg replied, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. “You treated me like a bull!”

Aemon laughed and brushed his sweaty hair out of his face.

Then, he leaned down and offered his hand to his brother.

Egg laughed as Aemon pulled him back to his feet.

“You got me there,” Aemon replied with a smile.

Egg lifted his helmet from his head and grinned, despite his defeat.

“Well, tomorrow is a new day,” Egg replied enthusiastically as ever. “But on the morrow, we shall train with the lance. Then, I will get my victory.”

Aemon nodded his head and watched as Ser Arthur drew closer, his violet gaze narrowed against the bright sunlight. It was nearly midday and the heat was burning down on them like the breath of hell.

“You did well,” Ser Arthur said. He was always sparse with compliments. “But you must keep your shield up. I have told you a thousand times.”

Then, he shifted to Egg who shrugged his shoulders as if he already knew beforehand what Arthur would tell him.

“I know…I mustn’t be so hot-headed,” his brother jested. “It must be my dragon blood speaking or is it my Dornish blood? What say you, Ser Arthur?”

A hint of a smile played on Arthur’s lips. It was hard to be angry with Egg.

“You ought to curb your hot temper, your Grace,” he replied and brushed the sweat from his brow. Then, he turned around to shift his attention to the other boys who had sought shelter beneath the trees lining the moss-covered walls of the courtyard.

There was Harry the Heir, blond-haired and as vain as a courtesan, Quentyn Martell, a gentle boy, but as boring as a cup of milk, followed by Gerris Drinkwater and Daemon Allyrion, formerly the bastard of Godsgrace. Both were Dornish and both disliked Aemon, so much he had realized during their first meeting. At last, came Robb, his cousin and one of his few _real _friends at court beside Egg and Harry.

“Alright, my young lords. Pack up your things and fetch your midday meal.”

Egg grinned at Aemon.

“Mother invited us. We should hurry.”

Aemon returned his brother’s smile as he picked up his helmet.

“Aye, let’s hurry.”

Robb grinned and patted Aemon’s shoulder to stop him along the way. “You were quick as ever. I could scarcely follow you. I ought to partake in the joust or melee in honor of your sister’s wedding.”

Aemon nodded eagerly. “It’s only a melee for the green boys, but by winning it I could win my spurs.”

“That will be me this time,” Harry added brazenly. “Unless Mace Tyrell’s golden boy partakes as well. Then, we are all fucked. They say he is an excellent swordsman.”

“He heard he likes to wear a flower cloak,” Daemon Allyrion sneered.

“I agree with Daemon,” Gerris Drinkwater added in amusement and crossed his arms in front of him. “Besides, everyone knows that Loras Tyrells prefers the joust. That means you will have to take it up with me, _your Grace_.”

Aemon tried not to show his annoyance.

At least, Daemon Allyrion was able to hide his dislike easier, but that was no surprise. He had been a bastard before his father had legitimized him scarcely two years ago.

“All of you are so ambitious,” Egg added in amusement and placed his hand on Aemon’s and Harry’s shoulders. “It will be a pleasure to watch you from the sidelines.”

Aemon chuckled but felt a hint of pity for his brother. Queen Elia had forbidden him to partake in tourneys.

…

The smell of perfume was the first smell that assaulted his nostrils as he entered the Queen’s solar. It was a mixture of sandalwood and lavender with a hint of roses. It was the smell of Queen Elia’s ladies.

Their soft giggling grew only louder as Egg brushed aside the silken drapes and they entered a round chamber held by marble pillars and covered with gilded correlations.

The Queen always reminded him of a statue, seated as she was among these giggling girls holding their pieces of embroidery in their laps.

_My mother hates it_, Aegon had told him more than once. _She prefers hawking and dancing_, _but her health does not allow for it._

That was certainly something Aemon could agree on and it made him all the happier that he had been born a boy and didn’t have to waste his time on such useless things as embroidery.

“Girls,” the Queen said, her voice firm, but strained from her constant bouts of coughing. “I fear I must ask you to leave me. I wish to dine with my son…and Prince Aemon.”

_Prince Aemon_. That was the only way she addressed him. It was a way to differentiate him from Aegon, so much he knew, but then it was much better to be called ‘Prince’ than ‘Bastard’. Of course, nobody would have ever dared to say such an insult to his face, but that didn’t mean Aemon wasn’t aware of the names he was given behind his back.

The Queen was not such a person, but her Dornish ladies were different. Especially, the new ones often looked at him as if he was some sort of ugly demon, but once they get used to his presence they usually kept their mouths shut.

As always, the girls fluttered away like a horde of butterflies, leaving only Aemon, Aegon, the Queen, and the young page boy that remained standing.

“You look better, mother,” Aegon remarked and placed a quick kiss on the Queen’s cheek.

Aemon kept his distance and lowered his head in reverence. “Your Grace.”

The Queen tensed, her frail body wrecked by a coughing fit.

Once, the fit had subsided Aemon sat down in the cushioned chair placed near the table and took in the Queen’s appearance.

She did looked a little better, but the consumption had left its mark on her. The heavy gown of striped red, orange, and black silk helped to hide her thin body, but the fact that it was at the height of summer and the Queen was covering herself in pelts was no good sign.

But Aemon kept these thoughts to himself.

“We should eat,” the Queen remarked, a tense smile crossing her lips as she waved her hand at the page boy, who rushed off as if his life depended on him. His name was Little Richard Lonmouth, Lord Richard’s and Lady Ashara Dayne’s only son and heir. He had his father’s brown hair and blue eyes but lacked his famous temper. On the contrary, Little Richard was a shy boy and lived to please everyone around him.

Not long after, the boy returned with two servants that brought them a bowl of steaming honey fingers, accompanied by fresh vegetables. They had no wine, though, only some fruity syrup mixed with honey and hot water. It was a Dornish drink common for younger children, for the Queen held a great dislike for wine.

That the Queen had ordered Aemon’s favorite dish surprised him even more, but when he saw Aegon’s grin he knew that it had been his brother’s idea.

“You should eat,” Aegon suggested and placed a piece into his mouth. “Or there will be nothing left for you, brother.”

Aemon nodded his head and ate slowly, enjoying every bite, but that didn’t make the whole meeting any less uncomfortable.

The Queen ate nothing and spent her time listening to Aegon’s tales, but rarely looked at Aemon.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the Queen would do if Aegon had been born with the Dornish looks and Aemon with the silver hair and purple eyes so common in his family. It was a shameful thing to do, but at times Aemon couldn’t help but nurse a grudge against the Queen and her kin. He couldn’t accept that his mother had to hide away like a common whore, even though she was his father’s second wife.

“Prince Aemon,” the Queen addressed him politely. “I heard your name day is drawing closer…” she trailed off as if she didn’t quite know what to say to him.

“It’s in a moon turn,” Aegon provided quickly. “By then we will be in Highgarden.”

The Queen nodded her head and cradled her cup of tea in her hands. A hint of a smile curled on her painted lips. “Good that you are bringing up Highgarden, my son. Your father has sent word that he won’t return to King’s Landing before the end of the week, which is why I want you and Prince Aemon to ride to Highgarden without us. We should be there in time for the wedding, though.”

“I see,” Aegon replied and scowled. “That means I have to play King, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t seem very pleased, “ the Queen said. “Why is that?”

“Because it means I will have to entertain Lord Pufffish”, Aegon said and made a swimming motion with his hands.

The Queen frowned and Aemon had a hard time keeping his laughter at bay. Richard, who was standing near the wall, was covering his mouth with his small hands, his cheeks deeply flushed.

“Aegon….that is no way to refer to the Lord Paramount of the Reach,” the Queen chided her son, but there was still a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Why not?” Aegon asked and poured down the food with his cup of fruit syrup. “His own mother calls him that.”

“It is true,” Aemon added politely. “Rhaenys said so.”

The Queen said nothing to his pointed remark, her dark eyes fixed on Aegon.

“You must stop acting like a little boy,” she chided her son and exhaled deeply. “You are nearly a man grown.”

Aegon scowled at that but didn’t protest. Instead, he lowered his head and smiled at the Queen.

“I shall do my best, mother,” Aegon promised.

Aemon remained silent for the rest of the evening and watched little Richard trying to stand still next to the door. It was an amusing sight to behold because he was constantly squirming as if he was about to pee himself at any moment.

He was also thankful that Aegon was doing all the talking for them. It made it easier to eat and to avoid the Queen’s gaze.

Aemon was glad when it was time to leave, but to his surprised, the Queen asked him to speak in private.

“What can I do for you, your Grace?” Aemon asked. “Is there something amiss?”

“Nothing is amiss,” the Queen assured him. “I only wanted to ask for a favor.”

“A favor….Of course, anything you want.”

The Queen nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“I want you to keep Aegon away from Margaery Tyrell.”

Aemon was surprised by the Queen’s request, but couldn’t help but to defend his brother.

“Have you so little trust in Aegon, your Grace?”

“It’s the girl I don’t trust,” the Queen replied and coughed. “She is too much like her grandmother. I suppose you heard the famous story of how Lady Olenna won herself a husband?”

Aemon felt slightly embarrassed to discuss such a matter with the Queen.

“Rhaenys told me the story.”

“Good,” the Queen replied curtly. “Then, you know the danger this girl could pose.”

Aemon swallowed hard and lowered his head in understanding.

“I shall do my best, your Grace,” he replied and lowered his head in understanding. “But why are you asking me?”

The Queen chuckled drily.

“Aegon listens to you. That is why.”

…


	13. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

From atop the balcony overgrown with roses and other greenery, Dany watched the riders pour into the courtyard below. Red roses stood in full bloom, but that was no surprise. It was the height of summer and every chamber and dwelling in the castle was heavy with the smell of flowers.

She spotted Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan first, their armor gleaming like a mirror. Behind them rode her two nephews and a large host of retainers, men-at-arms, squires and other people that had joined them on the road to Highgarden. To Dany, it looked more like a mummer’s show than a kingly procession.

“Aegon has grown,” Rhaenys remarked beside her. She smiled as her dark eyes followed her brother’s horse. “Aemon too.”

Dany narrowed her gaze against the bright sunlight and tried to get a closer look, but they were too far away.

“Let’s go,” Rhaenys added quietly and elbowed her. “We ought to greet our guests.”

Dany nodded her head and fastened her violet shawl around her neck. The garment fit her pink dress, though it didn’t sit well around her waist.

The climbed down a whirling staircase, though she had to walk carefully not to prick herself at the roses growing along the wooden railing.

When they reached the gallery below, they came across Lady Margaery and her horde of roses, as Rhaenys liked to refer to them. Most of them were daughters of the Reach or better said Lady Margaery’s kin. The Tyrells had taken good care to link themselves to almost all-important families of the Reach, least one of the other houses would try to remove “the Stewards” from power.

_Like the Florents_, Dany reminded herself and passed beneath the gilded gate decorated with colorful correlations. _They think they are the true rulers of the Reach_.

“Dany,” Rhaenys called her back to the present. “Stop dreaming.”

Soon, they reached the southern gate and the courtyard that was connected to it.

Usually, this place was used as a training yard, but now the air was heavy with the smell of horses and the shouts of the guests.

Dany could scarcely make out her nephews among the crowd of people, but Rhaenys proved fast as ever and pushed Dany in the right direction.

She found Aemon standing beside his horse, a black destrier he had called _Comet_, after his first pony. Aegon was already surrounded by the horde of roses, with Lady Margaery on one arm and her cousin Lady Elinor Tyrell on the other.

They giggled softly as Aegon tried his best to entangle himself from their grip.

“Lady Margaery,” Rhaenys addressed her future good-sister with a determined look. “Would you be so kind as to release my brother so he may greet me?”

Margaery smiled sweetly and was quick to blush as bright as the red roses in her father’s castle.

“Of course, Rhaenys.”

She was a beautiful girl with a heart-shaped face and soft brown hair that curled lazily around her shoulders. The dream of gold she wore only helped to accentuate her plump shape. In truth, she was only a year older than Dany, but she had already the shape of a woman while Dany still had the body of a young girl.

Not that this seemed to bother the lords and knights visiting Lord Mace Tyrell’s castle. On the contrary, the moment she had arrived here a year ago she had been surrounded by more admirers than she had been able to could. At first, she had been overwhelmed by so much attention, as she had grown up at Dragonstone, where she had rarely spent time in company of so many people. Sure, her brother’s bannermen came to visit Dragonstone regularly, but they usually came to see her Lady Mother and not Dany.

By now, Dany had learned to enjoy the constant attention without putting herself in danger of a scandal. Best was to smile and to speak about some flimsy topic, before moving on to the next person.

“Rhaenys!” Aegon’s excited voice rang in her ears. As Dany turned her head, Aegon was already there, lifting Rhaenys into the air as if she was nothing but a little child. “You haven’t changed one bit!”

“Put me down!” Rhaenys laughed, half-amused, and half-annoyed. Like Dany, she disliked the fact that she was so short. “Everyone’s watching.”

Aegon didn’t care and whirled her around once more, before placing her back on her two feet.

Dany wasn’t surprised by Aegon’s antics. Her nephew always enjoyed a grand entrance while Aemon was watching everything from the sidelines.

_Prince Aegon’s shadow_, some people called him. _Or the Black Dragon._

It were not particularly kind nicknames, but that was to be expected. As a little girl, Dany had never understood the difference between Lady Lyanna’s and Princess Elia’s children, but now she knew.

By law, Aemon and his siblings were legitimized bastards and there were some in the realm who begrudged them for it, among them most of Aegon’s family.

Dany could care less about that, though.

She had grown up with Aemon, Gaemon, and Alysanne. To her, they were more siblings than niece and nephews.

When Aegon recognize her presence he dipped his head apologetically.

“I didn’t see you, dear Aunt,” he said quickly and took her hand, placing a quick kiss on her hand before he was again assaulted by Lady Margaery and her ladies.

Dany had quickly moved out of the way and went over to Aemon, who looked as lost as her in the crowd of people. Everywhere she looked, stable boys were fetching horses while Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan were occupied in keeping everyone in line.

A ghost of a smile crossed over her lips as he noticed her presence, though the rest of his face looked as unreadable as ever.

“Aegon seems to enjoy the attention,” he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “But I think he should be careful not to prick himself at those thorny roses.”

Dany chuckled and took in his changed appearance. He hadn’t changed much since her last visit in King’s Landing, though he certainly had grown a handful of inches. His face was long and solemn as ever and his brown hair was now reaching to his chin. He had the Stark look, but his dark eyes belonged to his father: dark like the inky sky above and flecked with a hint of purple whenever the light fell upon it.

“You ought to be careful as well,” Dany told him as she walked into his embraced and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Lady Margaery is betrothed to Joffrey Lannister, but she doesn’t take that pledge very seriously. She likes to enjoy herself.”

Aemon gave her a surprised look, as he regarded her more closely. “Well, Aegon’s family would probably declare Rebellion if they found me in Margaery’s bed. A worthy challenge...Don’t you think?”

Dany gave him a double-glance and tried to read his face.

_He is teasing me. He knows that we are pledged._

_Well, I can play this game as well, _she thought and smiled.

“Well, the same can be said about young Lord Tarly. He has been quite courteous.”

It was half a lie. Dickon Tarly spent most of his time running around in company of Ser Loras Tyrell, the Redwyne twins, and Balon Greyjoy’s heir, an insufferable boy that constantly stared at Dany’s bosom whenever he spoke to her.

Aemon didn’t seem impressed with her answer and furrowed his dark brows.

“Dickon?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “He is good-looking, I give you that, but he is also as stupid as a piece of horseshit. You ought to go for the smarter brother. His name is Samwell and he has studied more books than Tyrion Lannister.”

Dany had never met this Samwell Tarly, but Tyrion Lannister she knew from her visit to Casterly Rock.

“I hope he is prettier than the Imp,” she remarked with a knowing smile.

Aemon laughed. ”Oh, Dany. That one would squash you. Besides, he has joined the Citadel.”

Dany nodded her head.

“So, this Samwell is the younger son?” Dany asked.

Suddenly, Aemon’s demeanor changed completely.

“Sam was the heir until Lord Tarly wanted to send him to the Wall.”

Dany was surprised.

“How then did he end up in the Citadel?”

“His mother brought the matter before the Queen,” Aemon replied. “Eventually, Father commanded Lord Tarly to send his son to the Citadel instead, claiming that Castle Black was in dire need of a new Maester. Well, Tarly was quite unhappy, but you can’t argue with the King, can you?”

Dany nodded her in agreement. “No, but I am surprised that nobody has been talking about it.”

“Father insisted on keeping the matter a secret,” Rhaenys added suddenly and graced her brother with a warm smile. “Isn’t that so?”

Aemon nodded his head and pulled Rhaenys into a quick embrace. This close, they looked more like siblings than Aemon and Aegon. Both had brown hair, though Rhaenys’ hair was slightly darker and both shared the dark eyes of their father.

“You are well-informed as always, sister,” Aemon replied after he had placed a kiss on Rhaenys’ cheek. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Lord Mace knows all about it.”

“You are correct,” Rhaenys informed him with a knowing smile. “Willas told me about it.”

“Speaking of Lord Willas,” Aemon added and swept his gaze over the crowd of people. “Where is he?”

Rhaenys’ gaze fell. “Well, you know how he is. He prefers to keep away from the crowd, but you will meet him during supper.”

Dany felt for her and for Lord Willas. He was a courteous man who had once been a promising knight, but he had been crippled in a joust against Prince Oberyn Martell scarcely two years ago.

Aemon returned Rhaenys’ smile and gave Dany a sideways glance.

“I look forward to it, but now I must save our brother,” he informed them and walked back to Aegon’s side.

…

There was a grand feast that night, but that was nothing new to Dany. In Highgarden, the very idea of sitting just idly was a sin. Every day, there was something to be done. Minstrels would flock to the court of roses to recite their new songs, knights and retainers changed as quickly as the seasons and mummers were performing plays almost weekly. It was a dream come true for someone like Rhaenys, who played the harp much better than Dany or any other Lady in Highgarden.

As Aegon was representing the King, he was seated between Lord Tyrell and his cheerful wife.

Dany, Aemon, and the rest of the Tyrell family were seated on a lower table, but that was only in her interest. Dany was glad to be far away from Mace Tyrell. He was an overbearing man and it gave her time to enjoy her time in company of Aemon, whom she hadn’t seen for a while.

“They have the best peaches here,” Dany told Aemon, who was enjoying a plate of pudding covered with whipped cream and strawberries. He was a sweet mouth like Aegon and seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly. “You should try them.”

Aemon lifted his head and picked a fresh peach from the silver bowl placed on each table before him. There were crimson cherries, golden apples, honey dates, fresh grapes, and rosy-kissed peaches.

Aemon bit into the peach and seemed to enjoy them as much as Dany. A handful of hearty bites and the peach was gone, leaving only the core.

“They are so sweet,” Aemon said in awe. “Where do they grow? Here in Highgarden?”

“Sadly not, or we would be able to enjoy them every day,” Rhaenys added dreamily. “They are from Pentos. Lord Tyrell knows a magister who grows them in his gardens.”

“No wonder these magisters are so rich,” Dany added and bit into the peach. The sweetness filled her belly with warmth when she looked at her nephew. “Some would kill for such a fine fruit.”

She knew nothing of men beyond the displays of courtship, but she wasn’t naïve either. She had seen how horses do it. It couldn’t be that difficult…

Aemon smiled and Margaery Tyrell, who was seated beside Rhaenys, giggled softly.

“Then, I should tell father not to order them anymore,” Lady Margaery remarked. “We don’t want to start a war over peaches, don’t we?”

“Certainly not,” Rhaenys added and lifted her cup to her lips. It was summer wine, hot and spicy on the tongue. Then, she grinned. “Well, I suppose I am lucky that I have access to them at any time. Forgive me, Willas, but that is the real reason I am marrying you, sweet peaches, the real gold of Highgarden!”

Willas chuckled and lifted his cup. “Well, then I am glad my father found this magister.”

“Hear! hear!” Aemon added unusually cheerful.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of music and wine. Thanks to said wine, Aemon had been more talkative than usual and left her well-informed. Her mother was supposedly well but had fretted over the fever that had affected Gaemon for a whole moon. Alysanne was now playing the harp, his mother was still storming her horse around Dragonstone, her brother the King was traveling back and forth and the Queen had finally recovered from her last bout of sickness.

Most things, Dany had already known from her many letters, but she had been very pleased to hear it from his lips.

“Highgarden is as beautiful as they say,” Aemon remarked as they crossed the courtyard, back to her chambers. Guardsmen were placed everywhere, their green cloaks nearly black in the darkness, and their blades glimmering in the candlelight falling through the golden-painted windows. “But it smells like in a whorehouse.”

Dany giggled.

“What would you know about whorehouses?”

“I have been to one,” Aemon replied bluntly. “Father asked Ser Arthur to take me and Aegon there…to educate us.”

Dany couldn’t believe her ears and pulled him aside, towards one of the many orchards.

“Educate you?” she asked and bit her lips in embarrassment. “What does that mean?”

Aemon gave her an amused smile. “Do you want me to show you what I learned?”

Dany wasn’t sure and looked around, to make sure that nobody could see them.

“Mother would never forgive me if I…,” she began and cast her eyes to her silver slippers.

Aemon laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders. Aemon, Aegon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys had played kissing before, but back then they had been stupid children. Now everything felt different, more real, and exhilarating.

Dany lifted her gaze and took a glimpse at Aemon’s lips. She wondered if he would taste of peach or the honeyed wine he had consumed.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Aemon said then, but Dany stopped him from moving away, pulling on the sleeves of his tunic.

“It’s not that, but as I said…we shouldn’t overdo it. Rumors spread fast in this castle.”

“So I have heard,” Aemon agreed. “What do you want to do?”

Dany smiled and bit her lip. “We could kiss? Like I did with Aegon and you did with Rhaenys? Remember?”

Aemon blushed at that. “We were silly children then, weren’t we? Who suggested this game again? Of course, it was Aegon!”

“Who else?” Dany whispered and leaned closer. “So, tell me? Was the girl pretty?”

Aemon chuckled, his warm breath brushing her lips. “Not as pretty as you.”

Then, Aemon brushed his head against hers and Dany instinctively lifted her gaze toward him. Dany made a quiet sound as their lips brushed against each other ever so slowly. She felt the inside of his mouth, soft and tender, his grip tightening against her shoulder, drawing her closer.

She suddenly felt very hot and only noticed that she was trembling when Aemon had pulled back.

“How was that?”

Dany wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being prideful.

“Not very impressive,” Dany replied with feigned mockery and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “My brother must have chosen a bad teacher for you.”

Aemon gave her a determined smile, his fingers curling a silver lock between his two fingers.

“We could try again?”

Dany brushed his hand away. She wouldn’t make it easy for him. There would be no fun in that.

“Mayhaps on the morrow.”

…


	14. Aegon

**Aegon**

Aegon watched as his brother and the rest of the competitors rode unto the courtyard, leaving behind them a cloud of dust.

His brother was barely recognizable in his gleaming black armor and the crimson cloak flapping around his shoulders. Aemon usually preferred to wear black, but it seemed he made an exception for today.

Not far behind his brother was Harry, who carried a lance instead of a sword.

There were also Gerris and Daemon, who carried swords like his brother. The two of them had put it into their heads that they would make it hard for Harry and Aemon, but that was no surprise. As a young boy, he hadn’t understood why his mother’s kin loathed his father’s second wife, but as he grew older he had begun to understand the political implications. Even so, he couldn’t help but to love his brother and his other two siblings. Lyanna Stark herself wasn’t much of a bother to him. She was one of the few people who could make his father smile.

Yet, the Dornish courtiers didn’t share his views in this matter. And while none of them would have ever dared to insult his brother to the face, he must feel their hostility at times.

“Aemon looks very gallant,” Rhaenys added with a knowing smile. She wore a dream of red silk and her dark hair was open, trailing all the way to her waist. The red rubies woven in her hair made her look even lovelier. 

_A dangerous thought_, Aegon reminded himself and smiled.

“He is going to win this,” Aegon replied and received amused looks from Lady Margaery and her ladies. Said girl giggled softly and leaned closer, the smell of roses entering his nose.

“How can you be so sure, your Grace?” she asked and Aegon instinctively backed away.

“I know my brother,” Aegon replied and smiled at Daenerys, who was seated between Lady Margaery Tyrell and Lady Desmera Redwyne. “He has been training hard. He wants to earn his knighthood.”

Margaery seemed delighted by this notion.

“Oh, how exciting!” she laughed and clapped her hands together. “I forgot…How old is Prince Aemon again?”

“One and four,” Aegon replied and waved his hand at Lady Margaery, indicating for her to be silent as he wanted to watch his brother’s performance.

Aegon grimaced when he noticed that one of the competitors had already been unhorsed. When he saw who it was, he was not surprised. It was _Dobber_, as one of Lord Redwyne’s twin sons was called, was a poor excuse for a squire.

Yet, there were still competitors left and his brother and friends were doing well so far. He proved formidable in maneuvering his horse around Robb Stark and easily evaded the thrusting motions of his lance.

For a brief moment, a cloud of dust had blurred Aegon’s view, but when his brother emerged again he saw that he was now behind Robb Stark, his blunted blade coming down on his enemy with a savage blow to his shoulder.

The clinking sound of metal rang over the courtyard and was followed by the sound of a rearing horse.

Yet, that was not the end of their battle. Aemon’s blow had brought Robb Stark out of balance, but the young man had somehow managed to keep in the saddle, though that was not much use, as Aemon was coming after him without mercy.

He had kicked his feet in the sides of horse and aimed at Robb’s helmet who tried to parry, but was promptly hurled from his horse when his brother’s horse had gotten too close.

Thus Aemon’s first opponent had fallen to his brother’s blade, who didn’t hesitate to make a move at his next enemy: Gerris who was still engaged in a fight with Dickon Tarly.

Dickon was the youngest of the squires and it showed. Dickon Tarly was a good rider, but the way he was holding his lance was almost clumsy. Lord Tarly liked to boast about his son’s prowess, but there was a huge difference between the practice yard and a real melee. Aemon had partaken in two such competitions and knew what he had to look for, but Tarly’s boy was still as green as the grass of Highgarden.

He thrusted his lance forward as Aemon brought his horse closer, but his brother had managed to direct his horse into a different direction.

Dickon thrusted again, but Aemon proved faster and lifted his shield in time, parrying the attack easily.

What followed happened all too fast. First, his brother had lifted his shield and in the same heartbeat he had brought down his sword at the boy’s head.

Aegon couldn’t help but to wince. He knew better than most how it felt to receive his brother’s blade battering against his helmet.

Dickon must have felt it, for he tumbled from the horse like a man too deep in his cups.

By the time, Dickon had been led from the courtyard, only two competitors remained.

There was Daemon, who had managed to unhorse Harry after a tiresome struggle between sword and lance.

Aegon’s heart skipped a beat when Daemon’s and Aemon’s their swords clashed, the sound of battle ringing over the crowd as shield and sword rose and sank.

Aemon was aggressive as ever. He wasted no time to bombard his Daemon with quick hacks and never allowed his horse a moment to rest. Any other stead would have long protested, but _Comet_ and his brother were more than just horse and rider. In battle they looked as if they were one.

Just as Daemon had parried Aemon’s blow to his neck, his brother had wheeled his horse around his enemy.

Another cloud of dust blurred his view, but the gleaming of the armor was enough to make out his brother’s and Daemon’s movements.

Left and right, up and down, the swords clashed. Both riders had long discarded their shields, initiating the last phase of this melee competition.

Daemon was fast, but Aemon was much faster.

He was used to Ser Arthur’s merciless training since he was a young boy and Daemon was now experiencing the results of it.

Aemon parried and attacked, leading his horse with sure movements, driving Daemon’s horse to madness.

The animal looked anxious and Daemon had a hard time keeping it in control.

Even so, Daemon was defending himself admirably, but it was no use when his brother had put it into his head to win his knighthood.

Aegon knew it was over when he urged his horse into Daemon’s rear and bashed his blunted blade in his helmet.

Daemon’s slumped forward, probably dazzled by the hard blow to his back.

When Daemon tumbled from his horse, Aegon knew that his brother had won.

The crowd cheered loudly as his brother dipped his head in appreciation and spurred his horse towards Daemon.

He stopped his horse and offered his hand, but was promptly ignored.

Daemon pulled himself back to his feet and led his horse away.

“Well done,” praised Willas Tyrell, who must have joined them while Aegon had been watching the battle. He was standing beside Rhaenys and was leaning on his crutch. “It seems my people love him.”

Aegon felt a hint of jealousy, but banished this feeling away before it could take hold of his mind.

“It seems so,” Rhaenys agreed and touched Willas’ arm. He smiled warmly at her and curled dark hair around his fingers. “But it is not hard to love my brother.”

Another sting of jealousy made Aegon’s heart ache.

_You have a lady of your own_, he reminded himself. Lady Shireen Baratheon.

She was a beautiful girl, but she wasn’t Rhaenys.

“Isn’t, that so?”

Aegon hadn’t even heard his sister’s question and smiled apologetically.

“Of course,” Aegon confirmed and noticed that Daenerys had risen to her feet and was waving at Aemon, who was leading his horse back to the stables. “Our brother is a good person.”

“Well, I think this performance is worthy of knighthood,” Lady Margaery added sweetly. “Makes me hope my betrothed can win his spurs in good time.”

Joff was younger than Lady Margaery and thus it would take a few more years before he could win his spurs.

“I am sure he will.”

Lady Margaery’s smile was as bright as sunshine.

“If you say so, it must be true, your Grace.”

Aegon nodded his head and leaned closer to place a kiss on his sister’s cheek.

“I am going to take a look at our brother,” he announced and offered his hand to Dany. “Do you care to join me, Daenerys?”

Dany laughed happily and took his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

His brother had already ridden himself of his armor when they found him. His sweaty dark hair clung to his face and his cheeks were deeply flushed as he was speaking to Ser Arthur.

Ser Arthur was not easily pleased, but it seemed he was as proud as their father would have been if he had been here to pay witness to the fight.

Aegon was proud too, though it irked him that he had to stay away from the fun, because his mother was constantly fretting about his safety.

_Well, she won’t mind if she doesn’t know about it_, he reassured himself of his plan.

“Well done, brother,” was the first thing Aegon said when he laid eyes on his brother. Then, he noticed Robb Stark who looked as if he had poured a bucket of water over his head. “You too, Stark. All did well.”

Robb laughed. “I shall win next time.”

“Sure,” Aemon agreed wholeheartedly. “If I don’t partake.”

Robb chuckled. “We will see about that, cousin.”

His brother seemed pleased about the challenge and grinned from one ear to the other. Thus, Robb left them, which pleased Aegon, for he would need privacy to set his plan into motion.

“You look exhausted,” Dany remarked as she took in Aemon’s flushed cheeks. “You may act as if the battle didn’t affect you, but you had a hard nut to crack with Daemon, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” Aemon admitted. “But it was worth it…Ser Arthur promised to knight me, though it feels rather strange to get my spurs before me. You are a whole year older than me, Egg.”

“Well, I never had much of a possibility,” Aegon added hesitatingly. He didn’t want to overwhelm his brother. “But I might get one soon enough…the joust for example.”

Aemon and Daenerys gave him both a confused look.

“I thought the Queen is against it.”

“Well, she is,” Aegon replied and ruffled his hand through his hair. “But she won’t mind if she doesn’t know it’s me.”

“And how do you want to accomplish that?” Daenerys asked skeptically. ”They will notice your absence.”

“I shall dress up and Aemon can ride in the first while I am watching with father and mother. And when it is time for me to take over I will excuse myself.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aemon agreed, but looked hesitant. “But where will you get the armor from and another horse without anybody noticing it?”

“Ser Barristan is going to help me,” Aegon continued to explain. “And I have father’s approval.”

“Father approved?” Aemon asked in confusion. “Are you sure?”

“He did,” Aegon confirmed and smiled at Daenerys and Aemon. “I would appreciate both our help.”

Aemon smiled and patted his shoulder. “Sure, brother.”

Daenerys giggled and looked very excited. “And who are you planning to crown? Lady Shireen?”

Aegon smiled and said nothing.

…


	15. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

With the loud roar of a horn, the tourney was started and the two opponents, one of Lord Redwyne’s twin sons and an unknown knight in polished plate and a black cloak, crossed their lances.

The rattling sound burned in Rhaenys’ ears and filled her with an unknown excitement. Her previous life had been a simple one, dominated by her lessons, but since she had come to Highgarden all that had changed.

Highgarden was never boring and she had learned much during her time in the court of the roses. She had learned archery, hawking, and had improved her harp play. By now, she could even sing without blushing in front of others as Lady Margaery insisted on constant practice.

That Willas held a great liking for her voice made it even better. It was safer than trading kisses or other pleasures that were not allowed to someone like her. If she was a common lady most wouldn’t have cared if she shared her bed with her betrothed before her wedding, but she was a Princess of House Targaryen and thus everyone was constantly watching her.

At times, it was almost too much, but not today, for today everyone’s attention directed on the young men about to test their mettle in the joust.

In truth, it was only a competition for squires, but that didn’t make it any less exciting for her as most of these young men were known to her.

The crowd seemed equally enthusiastic. Half the Reach was here and yesterday, her father and her mother had finally joined them. Mace Tyrell had been mad with excitement, but now he seemed to have calmed his mind and was smiling happily next to his wife.

Her mother looked less enthusiastic. Going by her pale face and her constant coughing, her sickness hadn’t fully abated.

Rhaenys was sure that she had only undertaken the travel for her sake, as her father and mother rarely traveled together.

When she was younger she had been confused by this, but then her mother had taken her aside and had explained it to her. “This is no marriage like in the songs, sweetling. I wed your father to please my mother.”

Back then Rhaenys hadn’t known what to make of her mother’s words, but now she was sure that it was a blatant lie. Ser Barristan had told her that her father and mother had been fond of each other at the beginning of their marriage, but Rhaenys’ birth and her grandfather’s hatred for her mother had put a strange on their relationship. That her father had named Lady Lyanna Stark as Queen of Love and Beauty had only added to their estrangement. Rhaenys knew her father’s reasons and had long accepted his father’s second wife, though at times it had been hard for her to do so.

“Where is your mind, Rhaenys?” asked Willas, his hand brushing over her knuckles. He was a handsome young man with golden-brown locks and a sharp face. He had a mild temper, a generous heart, and shared Rhaenys’ love for books, but she knew that was not what he had wanted to be. In his youth, he had served as her father’s squire and barely a year after receiving his spurs he had been crippled in a tilt against her Uncle Oberyn. “The tilt is on.”

Rhaenys nodded her head and watched as the riders returned to their respective positions at the other end of the tiltyard. “I think Hobber is going to lose this match.”

It was all too clear. Hobber was still drunk from last night’s festivities and his opponent sat straight like a lance. Rhaenys had no talent for jousting, but she had watched her brothers often enough to determine whether someone had talent for this sport or not.

His father must have overheard her words, for he leaned closer and smiled at her.

“This one knows how to sit a horse,” he complimented and leaned back in his chair.

“So much is true,” her mother agreed quietly, her dark eyes following the riders as they crossed their lances once more. This time, Hobber stood no chance, and when his opponent crashed his lance against his breastplate with such force that the poor boy was hurled out of his saddle as if he was nothing more than a child.

The crowd cheered and a cloud of dust dimmed their view as two squires of House Redwyne came forward. One caught the horse and one helped Hobber back on his feet while the unnamed knight basked in the cheers of the crowd.

“Well done for a newcomer, though it would be much more interesting if he gave his name,” Aegon remarked with an amused smile and lifted his cup to his lips. Beside him sat Daenerys, clad in a long-sleeved dress and a silver hairnet that covered her pale locks. Aegon looked almost regal: he was clad in a black tunic, black boots, and a crimson cloak was wound around his right shoulder.

Aemon had also promised to join them but had excused himself in the morning by claiming that his head was pounding due to his wine consumption from the previous day. “But he needs to keep his shield up.”

The roaring horn was quick to announce the next match.

When the banners of House Rowan and House Tyrell were lifted, Rhaenys knew Loras Tyrell was going to riding, though the ear-bleeding cheers from the female attendance could have told her that as well.

“Loras will not have a hard time with this one,” Willas promised her and smiled as his brother rode unto the tiltyard.

He wore polished plate and a cloak of flowers. The girls giggled when he spurred his horse into position and lowered his visitor.

As Willas’ had promised her, Loras had easy play. Two rounds and his enemy was done for, but the crowd roared as if he was the Dragonknight reborn.

Her brother Aegon smiled mischievously and waved his hand at his betrothed, seated a bit below their mother with the rest of her ladies. Lady Shireen Baratheon was a shy girl with a soft-featured face and the traditional coloring of House Baratheon: blue eyes and black hair.

The girl blushed in silence while the girls next to her giggled as Aegon shared his predictions for the tourney. 

“Loras is in good form, but I have a feeling he is not going to win this tourney,” Aegon declared and turned back to look at Rhaenys and Margaery Tyrell.

“We will see about that, dear brother,” Rhaenys replied and folded her hands in front of her.

Next came a son of Lord Fassoway and Dickon Tarly, Lord Tarly’s heir.

Tarly’s heir proved better in the joust than in the melee and unhorsed his opponent after three rounds. A good performance for his first tilt, so much even Rhaenys was forced to admit, though she held no love for Lord Tarly and his son. The man had never hidden what he thought of Willas’ affliction. 

_Cripples are of no use to anyone_, she had heard him say once. _It is a blessing by the gods when they die young._

“Harry is riding,” Aegon informed Rhaenys and grinned. “Against Robb.”

Rhaenys smiled and watched as the two young men took position.

Robb Stark had been unhorsed during the melee, but this time the Young Wolf proved better.

Two rounds and Harry the Heir kissed the dirt. It was a sweet sight, for she had always preferred Robb Stark over Harry, who had the tendency to get her brother Egg into trouble.

“Well, it seems my cousin is doing well for himself,” Aemon’s sudden remark caused her to angle her head. He looked re-freshened, his dark hair wet and his cheeks rosy. He must have taken a bath for he smelled of soap. “What do you think, Egg?”

Aegon grimaced and showed them his empty cup.

“That I had too much wine. I think I need to leave…,” he explained and shifted his attention back to their mother and father.

“How many cups did you have, my son?” their mother asked bluntly as ever.

“Too many, Lady Mother,” Aegon apologized and placed a kiss on their mother’s cheek. In passing he dipped his head at their father and climbed down the steps, followed by their Grand-Uncle Lewyn.

“Do not be angry with him, your Grace,” Aemon added softly and sat down in Aegon’s empty seat. “I convinced him. The fault lies with me.”

The skeptical expression displayed on her mother’s face told her that she didn’t buy his answer.

“I know my son, Prince Aemon.”

Aemon nodded his head and shifted his attention back to Daenerys, who covered her mouth with her right hand to keep herself from laughing.

Rhaenys shook her head and shifted her attention back to the next match: Gerris Drinkwater faced a squire from House Hightower.

The next match was an exciting back-and-forth. Four rounds were needed to decide the match in favor of one of the opponents.

Two more matches followed after this before the roaring horn announced the beginning of the quarter-finals.

The first match was between Robb Stark and the hedge knight.

“Let’s see how he will handle your cousin,” Willas said to Aemon.

“I have not seen him ride,” her brother said and shrugged his shoulders. ”Is this hedge knight any good?”

“Quite good,” their father added softly, a strange emotion glinting in his indigo eyes. “Just watch. That is half the joy about these tourneys.”

“I will,” Aemon replied and leaned back in his seat. “I will.”

Another horn blast was all that was needed and the two young men spurred their horses into a mad gallop, even breaking their lances, but remaining seated.

The crowd cheered and even her father clapped.

“Not even I can claim to be that good,” he complimented and watched as they rode back to the other end of the tiltyard to receive a fresh lance.

Again, the banners were raised and the sound of the horn gave the sign for the charge.

This time, the hedge knight proved much faster and dealt Robb Stark a savage blow to the chest.

Half-seated in his horse Robb Stark rode a circle and then back to the other end of the tiltyard.

“This hedge knight is good, but Robb Stark is stubborn as ever,” Rhaenys added in admiration.

Aemon laughed.

“Robb is a Northman…they are all quite stubborn, but I think Robb is still afflicted by the previous round.”

Her brother’s words proved true in the next round when Robb Stark barely managed to lift his lance and managed to unseat him with a savage blow to the shoulder.

Yet, even after he had rolled through the dust, the Young Wolf pulled himself back to his wobbling feet and walked upright from the tiltyard. The crowd loved him for it, though the hedge knight received all their cheers.

The next two matches passed in a blur and by midday day only the hedge knight, Loras Tyrell, Gerris Drinkwater, and Dickon Tarly remained.

The first match between Loras and Gerris proved rather short and boring.

Loras unhorsed him in the first round, which was obviously a great blow to the Dornishman’s pride, for he nearly threw his helmet at the stable boy trying to get hold of his horse.

“I hope your brother’s friend is not too angry,” Willas whispered into her ear. “I know how prideful these Dornishmen can be.”

“And I how thorny these Tyrells can be,” Rhaenys replied in amusement. “Well, Loras has half of Highgarden’s ladies behind him. Gerris never had a chance.”

Willas chuckled. “I suppose so.”

The hedge knight showed no mercy to his opponent either. Two rounds and one broken lance and Fassoway kissed the dirt, which left the final tilt to Loras Tyrell and the hedge knight.

“This will be interesting I think,” her father remarked. “And the winner should receive his knighthood.”

His father smiled as he lifted his head to look at Ser Barristan, who was standing guard beside his King. “What do you think, Ser Barristan?”

“A good idea, your Grace,” the knight agreed warmly, his blue gaze flickering back to the tiltyard where the hedge knight and Loras Tyrell were taking position.

As always, Loras waved his hand at his sister and the horde of ladies seated around her. They giggled and cooed as he waved his cloak of flowers at them.

Sometimes, he would even throw roses at the crowd, but not today.

The hedge knight had not even moved. He was waiting for the sign to charge. 

“The Knight of Roses!” Lady Margaery and her ladies cheered loudly.

“The Knight in Black!” others roared, mostly the people in the lower ranks which belonged to the smallfolk. They always held a strange love for underdogs and hedge knights.

It was not hard to understand why. They probably saw themselves in these brazen men.

The sound of the horn silenced the crowd and within the blink of a moment, the two competitors kicked their feet in the sides of their horses, charging at each other at a mad pace.

The lances met each other in the middle, sliding against each other with a rattling sound.

It was a poor round, but that didn’t seem to bother the crowd of onlookers.

They cheered loudly as the two riders trotted back into position.

The second charge proved much more exciting. The lances shattered, leaving shards of broken wood drifting in the air like butterflies.

“Much better,” Aemon said, his dark eyes following the hedge knight’s movements. “Loras has found himself a worthy opponent.”

Rhaenys nodded her head and leaned forward, to get a better look at the riders taking position.

She had just found a comfortable position when then horn blast sent them charging at each other once more.

Rhaenys didn’t know why, but something had changed in Loras’ demeanor. He rode in a brisk and aggressive manner, but shortly before the impact he shifted in his saddle and managed to move his lance slightly to the right, sending the hedge knight’s shield swirling through the air.

Yet, even that savage strike hadn’t been enough to unhorse his pesky enemy.

The crowd loved him for it and cheered once more as his horse trotted back to the other end of the tiltyard.

“This will be deciding match,” her father remarked and leaned his head against his balled fist. “Wait and see.”

Her mother gave her father a strange look before her dark eyes flickered back to the tiltyard.

Again, the horn was sounded and the two opponents charged at each other, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

Within the matter of a heartbeat, Rhaenys saw nothing. She only heard the sound of wood crashing against wood and the gaps of the crowd below.

This time, the hedge knight’s lance had not missed its target. Loras Tyrell twisted in the air, kissed the dirt and his horse raced all the way down to the other end of tiltyard, nearly running over one of the poor page boys. 

“That was well done,” Willas said beside her. “I suppose I lost my bet.”

Aemon elbowed Daenerys and chuckled. “And I am thankful you convinced me to place a bet on the hedge knight. Now, I will be able to afford a new sword.”

Dany giggled and exchanged a knowing look with Aemon.

Willas leaned towards Aemon.

“A bit of humility is just what my prideful brother needs,” Willas said and chuckled. “Still…I am curious about the hedge knight’s identity.” 

“Loras will survive it,” Lady Margaery agreed and watched as the hedge knight received the victory laurel meant for the Queen of Love and Beauty. It was a wreath of roses, crimson like the rubies Rhaenys liked to wear in her hair. “I am also curious who this hedge knight is going to crown.”

“A good question,” Aemon hummed and Daenerys covered her mouth. “A really good question.”

Rhaenys sensed they were hiding something from her and this feeling only intensified when her gaze fell upon her father.

He was watching the hedge knight just as intently as Aemon.

“Rhae,” Daenerys whispered and caused Rhaenys to turn around. “He is riding towards us!”

It was true, the hedge knight was indeed riding towards them, the wreath of flowers fastened on the top of his lance.

“Maybe he wants to crown you,” Daenerys suggested jestingly.

Rhaenys had considered this as well, but Daenerys’ prediction turned out to be wrong.

The hedge knight stopped in front of the royal box, but he dropped the crown in her mother’s lap.

“Oh!” Dany exclaimed softly and turned her he head to look at Rhaenys’ mother. “That is what he wanted to do…I didn’t even consider it!”

Aemon just grinned and Rhaenys felt as if a bucket of water had been poured over her head.

She finally understood the truth of it all.

_How stupid I am_, she thought and grinned from one ear to the other as she watched her mother touch the wreath of flowers in her lap. 

_It was all so clear. Well played, Egg._

_And you, father_, Rhaenys realized when she saw her father’s warm smile. _You knew it all along, didn’t you?_

“Show us your face, good Ser!” Daenerys whooped.

“Aye, show us your face!” Aemon added cheerfully.

And within the blink of a moment, Egg had ripped off his helmet, his silver hair plastered to his cheek.

Thus, Egg grinned, the crowd roared and her mother’s eyes were overflowing with silver tears.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DnD's recent interview made me even more angry...Like how much of an asshole can you be? If you know that you can't do it get yourself fucking help.
> 
> I am glad they lost SW, though I doubt that had much to do with our outrage and more to do with Disney being smarter than HBO.
> 
> And the prequel...Why the Dance? So, I can watch another female Targ turning mad. No, thank you. I am not interested in the super edgy version of the Anarchy.
> 
> At least, Steven didn't feed his niece to a dragon and made her son his heir.
> 
> The Conquest would have been much better. At least, the women don't turn mad and are kickass, though I admit Aegon burning the shit out of the Dornish might be a bit problematic...
> 
> I guess, they need to drive home how terrible the Targs were. So we are just conveniently forgetting about Aegon and Jaehaerys who will always be a hundred times better Kings than Bran the Cripple.
> 
> Anyway? What is wrong with dragons? They are weapons of mass destruction? So what? Look at our own world? The fact that America has such weapson and Russia as well is the reason we have not killed each other until now
> 
> It is called MAD....Mutually Assured Destruction. To think we could all live together in peace and sing kumba-ja, is just as childish as to think the Lords of Westeros would bow down to a cripple without any dragons or army.
> 
> Rant is over.


	16. Viserys

**Viserys**

The marriage between Princess Rhaenys and Willias Tyrell was sealed by a chaste kiss and the enthusiastic clapping of the wedding guests. Viserys was among them, standing beside his brother the King, who was holding the Queen with a firm grip.

The Queen had endured the ceremony with firm determination, but the moment the crowd dispersed she let go of his brother’s arm and allowed one of her ladies, a certain Lady Ysilla Royce, to lead her away.

Viserys had recognized her by her beautiful eyes: green eyes flecked with gold. He had spent a great part of his youth in the Vale, growing up alongside her older brother, who was not only an excellent swordsman but also a good man. After the Greyjoy Rebellion Viserys had remained several more years in the Vale before he had returned to court, where he was given an honorary position at his brother’s council, another one of his mother’s grand ideas.

Now, after so many years, he could only marvel at how much Lady Ysilla had changed. The mischievous girl that had loved chasing through the halls of her father’s castle had turned into a tall beauty with the auburn-blond hair so common in the Vale. She had also discarded her dirty dresses and was clad in grey-green silk. _She looks like a Princess_, Viserys thought, and noticed that his nephew Aemon was staring at him.

“Tell me, who is this girl you are looking at, dear Uncle?” his nephew asked. “She must be a new addition to the Queen’s ladies. I haven’t seen here before.”

“She is Lady Ysilla Royce,” Viserys replied and felt embarrassed that his nephew had noticed his staring. He tried to overplay it with a smile, but it was not easy to fool his nephew. “She is Lord Royce’s only daughter.”

“She is pretty,” Aemon added and elbowed him. “Are you close?”

Viserys shook his head. “She was just a little girl when I resided in the Vale and she was later sent to the Eyrie. I think Lord Royce thought Jon Arryn might consider wedding his heir to his daughter.”

“Well, it seems she has grown into a beauty with very womanly attributes,” Aegon added after he had slung his arms around Viserys’ and Aegon’s shoulders.

Viserys rolled his eyes and frowned at his nephew Aegon. He hated it when he was doing that. “Always prying on others, aren’t you, dear nephew?”

“That’s Egg for you,” Aemon added and squeezed Viserys’ shoulder. “Well, he is not wrong. You should be quick about courting her. A pretty girl will soon be married.”

His nephew had a point, but it displeased him that these two green boys were counseling him on love. Viserys was no lustful man, but he had enjoyed his fair share of ladies in his bed. He knew how to please a woman or at least he thought so.

“What would you two know about such things anyway?” he asked mockingly and freed himself from Aegon’s grip. “You two are maids, aren’t you?”

Egg laughed and Aemon averted his gaze.

“As it happens father told Ser Arthur to take us to a certain girl…Doreah was her name and she showed us how to please girls.”

Viserys didn’t believe his ears. “My brother asked this of Ser Arthur? Truly?”

“Father thought it wise for us to be educated in such matters,” Aemon explained softly, his cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment.

Aegon grinned. “One of the few lessons I truly enjoyed!”

“Not so loud!” Aemon hissed and pulled on Aegon’s shoulder. “Especially not in such a holy place.”

Egg laughed away his brother’s chiding remark and flashed Viserys a bright smile.

“You should ask the Lady to dance with you,” Aegon added slyly, obviously not wanting to let go of the matter. “I could ask her for you…She is one of my mother’s…,” he was about to continue, but Viserys’ shaking head silenced him at once.

“I shall do it myself!” Viserys declared before they followed after the rest of the marriage procession.

Like every place in Highgarden, the Great Hall was overflowing with golden roses.

_Roses everywhere_, Viserys thought as he took his place at the high table. As was the custom, his brother and Queen Elia were seated beside Mace Tyrell and his wife Lady Alere, followed by Rhaenys, Willas, Lady Margaery, and her brothers Loras and Garlan. Aemon was seated beside Daenerys and Aegon was seated next to his betrothed, Lady Shireen Baratheon, who looked very distinguished in her dress made of red and black brocade. She was a pretty girl with an even-shaped face, like her mother Lady Lynesse Hightower, but her coloring belonged to House Baratheon: raven hair and bright blue eyes. The dress was still a tad too much for her girlish body, but Viserys was sure that she would fill it out quite soon. Truly, Aegon couldn’t complain about his future bride, though she was a bit on the timid side. Even so, Aegon only had eyes for Rhaenys, who in turn seemed very taken with Willas Tyrell.

_You are seeing things you are not supposed to see_, Viserys reminded himself and shifted his attention back to the first course: pumpkin soup with parsley. It tasted delicious, but the next course, venison and garlic sauce, was much more to his taste. A course of fish, meat, and sweet pastries followed, all of them made from fresh fruits from Highgarden’s gardens.

It was a seldom luxury, but even so, Viserys couldn’t help but stare at Lady Ysilla, who was seated beneath one of the gilded rose correlations. She was surrounded by two Dornish ladies and they were laughing wholeheartedly over a tale that was being relayed by another girl. She was younger than the others and golden-haired. _Myrcella Lannister_.

“So, when are you going to make your move?” Aegon asked.

His sister Daenerys gave Viserys a curious look.

“Make his move?” she asked in obvious confusion.

“Viserys said he would ask Lady Ysilla for a dance,” Aemon explained. “But so far he has only been staring at her from afar.”

“Oh,” Dany said and took a quick glimpse at Lady Ysilla. ”She looks pretty.”

Viserys blushed and rose to his feet, deciding to make good on his promise. He couldn’t afford to be a coward in front of his green nephews or they would hold it against him till the end of his days.

Yet, that proved harder than expected. The ladies seemed very engrossed in the story Lady Myrcella was telling them. They only lifted their heads after he had cleared his throat rather loudly.

“Lady Ysilla,” Viserys said and forced a smile over his lips. “Would you care for a dance?”

Lady Ysilla giggled. “Of course, Prince Viserys. It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Viserys was pleased that she was not bothered by the idea, for he was neither a good dancer nor particularly good-looking.

“It has,” he confirmed. “Shall we go then?”

“Gladly,” Lady Ysilla replied and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

A jolly tune was played up when they stepped on the dance floor. Viserys was no good dancer, but he tried his best to keep up with Lady Ysilla, who proved to be an excellent dancer.

Her smile was also sweet…and the touch of her slender fingers brushing over his shoulder made him burn with an altogether different feeling.

“You are still clumsy,” she remarked when he stepped on her feet. “How is your horsemanship?”

“Much better,” Viserys mumbled in return and tried to keep his hand from sliding lower. “But I still prefer to keep my feet on the ground. I fear horses and I will never become friends.”

Lady Ysilla giggled softly, like the sound of bells. “Well, that should be no surprise. A dragon would fit you much better than a horse.”

Viserys knew she was just jesting with him and played along.

“I suppose,” he agreed and leaned closer. Her smell made his head swim. She smelled of roses and something else he couldn’t quite place. “But it is hard to get a dragon these days. The only dragons that are known to me are those my brother keeps hidden beneath the Red Keep. Have you seen them, my Lady?”

Excitement sparkled in her eyes as she quickly hopped from one foot to the other. Then, she twirled around and took his hand again. Viserys felt sweat running down his cheeks as he tried to keep up with her fast pace. It was worse than a sparring match.

“No!” she said and whirled around once more. “But I would love to see them! Would you take me?”

Viserys couldn’t believe his luck. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of gold over his head.

“It would be my pleasure,” Viserys replied, his heart fluttering wildly. “I shall make time for it.”

“Wonderful!” Lady Ysilla exclaimed and led him through the last steps. “I shall be pleased to spend more time with you. I am sure we have much to speak about.”

Viserys could only smile like a fool as he stumbled over her foot.

“Oh…forgive me!” he apologized quickly as they scrambled from the dance floor. “As I said…I am a horrible dancer…,” he trailed off, but when the new lady of his heart rose unto her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek he forgot about his embarrassment.

“We shall see each other later,” she whispered and returned to her friends.

Viserys stared after her for a moment, before he returned to his table and grinned.

Aemon and Aegon were all about him when he sat down.

“This girl must really like you, Uncle,” Aegon remarked as he leaned closer. “You are a horrible dancer, but she was smiling like a star.”

“It must be true love!” Aemon cooed.

Viserys couldn’t care less about their opinions.

These two foolish boys were just jealous of him.

…


	17. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys found her brother alone, but that was no surprise to her. Aegon, Robb, Harry, Daemon, and the rest of his companions had left a day ago after both Aegon and Aemon had received their knighthood.

Of course, they had had to undergo the common ceremony: a cleansing bath, a day-long fast, a confession to the Septon, and an all-night vigil of prayers in the Sept, though Aemon had told her that he would have preferred a weirwood tree. Rheanys, however, was glad that he had refrained from doing that. It would have only made him appear in a bad light. The High Septon was willing enough to do the King’s bidding, but that didn’t mean there weren’t those who eyed her father’s second with displeasure.

“You look like a new,” was the first thing she remarked when she entered the chamber. The walls were white and held by carved pillars. The windows were narrow and golden, rose correlations curling around them. The carpets were splendid and made from silver and golden thread, a dream come true for every lady who enjoyed these kinds of sights. “But I suppose that is understandable…you are now a knight.”

“That is true,” Aemon replied proudly. “But I don’t feel changed.”

“They say one is cleansed of one’s previous sins if you become a knight,” Rhaenys added and took in his cut hair. _Dany did well_, she decided with a smile. “Well, do you feel cleansed of your sins?”

It was a jest and Aemon recognized it as such.

He chuckled and offered his arm to her, though there was a hint of hesitation in his demeanor.

“You are wed,” Aemon reminded her. “Do you think it is appropriate to come here alone?”

“I don’t want my ladies to pry on me,” she informed him without giving him an outright answer to his previous question. What her brother said was true, but Rhaenys wouldn’t allow others to dictate her life in such a manner. “Besides, Willas trusts me. There are no secrets between us. I told him about all my past adventures.”

Aemon blushed at that and averted his gaze for a moment, as he pushed the door open.

“Did you also tell him about the kissing games?” he asked and blushed, even more, when Rhaenys nodded her head in confirmation.

“Why are you so embarrassed, little brother?” she asked and ruffled his hair. “We were children and playing our silly games. My brother kissed Dany and you kissed me. There was no deeper meaning to it.”

“Aegon feels differently,” Aemon answered as they stepped out to the gardens. The smell of roses entered her nose and a sharp wind stirred her cloak, making it slap into her face. Rhaenys had to push the garment down and rolled her eyes when she noticed Aemon’s amused smile.

“It can get quite windy here in the Reach,” she replied, trying to avoid the topic of Aegon, but Aemon didn’t allow her to escape.

“You know what I am talking about,” Aemon whispered and pulled her towards the white-washed bench. “Aegon always wanted to marry you…not Stannis’ little mouse.”

“Lady Shireen is a good match,” Rhaenys defended her father’s decision. “Aegon shouldn’t complain.”

“He never did,” Aemon replied a bit too sharply. It seemed he disagreed with her assessment. “And he will do what is expected of him, but that doesn’t mean he will stop hoping for something different.”

“He ought to,” Rhaenys replied and let go of his arm, allowing herself to sink unto the bench. “I am wed and he will be King. I love my father, but you saw how much trouble it caused him that he took your mother as his second wife. Aegon ought to keep to one girl.”

“Aye,” Aemon agreed and sat down beside her. “But what about you? I never dared to ask you about your match…Are you happy?”

“I am happy,” she replied and meant it. “I love Aegon, but he is not the kind of person I would want to spend the rest of my days with. Often, I felt more like his mother than his sister…and at times he can be rather childish,” she trailed off.

Then, she turned her head and regarded Aemon more closely.

Aegon was the reason she had wanted to talk with him, but now she felt the need to ask.

“What about you? Are you satisfied with your match?”

A seldom smile played on his lips. “I am quite happy with my lot, you know that, dear sister, but I think father wanted different matches for me and Dany.”

“Of course,” Rhaenys replied. “Having you wed to Dany does not bring you much influence and takes away the possibility of marrying Dany to another high lord. Father wanted you to wed someone like Margaery or Lady Myrcella. At least that is what mother told me.”

“I am well aware,” Aemon replied and grimaced. “And I am glad I dodged that arrow. Lady Margaery is beautiful and accomplished, but her constant giggle makes my head squirm. Lady Myrcella is sweet, but still a child. I prefer a girl closer to my age. Well, I think Dany wouldn’t have liked to be wed to Harry or Lord Edmure. She thinks Harry is a vain dolt and Lord Edmure is much older than her and was wed before.”

“Dany has the luck of being my father’s only sister,” Rhaenys pointed out the hard truth.

“Father wouldn’t have forced either of us into a match,” Aemon pointed out and touched her shoulder, squeezing softly. “He would have allowed you to choose Rhae…you know that.”

“I am well aware,” Rhaenys sighed and brushed her wind-swept hair over her shoulder. “But I was lucky…I love Willas. There is no one else.”

“It is just…what Aegon did at the tourney wasn’t just for your mother,” Aemon explained and fiddled with the hem of his silken tunic. It was all black and shiny, a black dragon and a white wolf emblazoned on his chest. It was his personal crest. “He wanted to impress you.”

“I am well aware,” Rhaenys replied and shook her head. “And I am thankful for what he did for my mother, but it also shows how much a child he is. It is also the reason I would have never wanted to marry him. He would have burdened me with his problems. Willas doesn’t do that. He allows me to breathe…Highgarden allows me to breathe. Being a Queen is not something I aspire to be.”

“And I could never imagine being a King,” Aemon agreed. “Father doesn’t like it either.”

“It isn’t about what he wants, though,” Rhaenys pointed out. “Such is the fate of first-born sons…and sometimes second-born sons as well.”

Aemon’s head had snapped around when she had said this.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked and leaned closer to cover her hand with his. ”That I might be King?”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenys replied hesitatingly. “Nobody knows what the future holds, which is why you shouldn’t sit on your laurels. It is also the reason father desired a better match for you. Well, my kin thinks differently. They are more comfortable to keep you in the shadows.”

Aemon had listened with rapt attention, a hint of anger showing in his dark eyes.

“I am fine being the second son,” he assured her. “But I do not like how they speak about my mother. If I was King I would make them shut up about it.”

Rhaenys chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. “Even a King cannot control what his subjects think…,” she trailed off.

She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to address the reason she had called Aemon here.

“Besides, your mother might soon get her chance to take revenge against those who sneered at her for all these years.”

Aemon’s dark eyebrows rose to the top of his head.

“How so?”

“My mother is sick,” Rhaenys replied. “Very sick.”

Aemon said nothing at first. Then, he nodded his head in understanding and leaned closer, his breath brushing against her shoulder.

“I noticed that the coughing didn’t ease like the last time,” he whispered and made a very distraught face. “Is that why you came to see me? Does Aegon know?”

“No,” Rhaenys replied and shuddered when a gust of cold wind washed over her. “He doesn’t know. Mother thought it best not to tell him.”

Aemon’s dark eyes narrowed in disapproval. “And you think that is a good idea? You know how much Aegon hates when he is caught off guard.”

“I know,” Rhaenys replied. “But you know how difficult Aegon can be…,” Rhaenys was about to continue, but Aegon cut her off.

“No, you are being hypocritical, dear sister,” Aemon added, the tone of his voice changing to the iron tone that reminded her of her father. “You want him to grow up and yet you are still treating him like a child.”

“He must be told,” Aemon insisted when Rhaenys hadn’t answered at once. He even pulled on her cloak, his dark eyes searching her face.

“I know,” Rhaenys told him at last and louder than intended. “I know!”

“Is that why you called me here?” he asked more calmly. “Do you want me to tell him?”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenys replied and graced him with a warm smile. “But most of all I wanted to prepare you for what is to come. Things will change and not necessarily for the better. Father will want to make your mother Queen and that might displease a great many people. Not just because she will no longer be a mistress, but also because it would make you and your siblings ‘trueborn’.”

“My mother doesn’t even want to be Queen,” Aemon replied. “She never wanted it. You must know that.”

“Even so, someone will have to occupy the position of Queen,” Rhaenys explained. “If not your mother than another woman. The high lords will pressure father into taking another wife. There is no way he could avoid that.”

Aemon clenched his teeth. “And that is something my mother would never accept.”

“Exactly,” Rhaenys replied and covered his clenched fist with her hands. “And that is why I told you, though I also told you for Aegon’s sake. All these years I have taken care of him, but now I will be here in Highgarden…he will have to rely on you from now on and I wanted to make you aware of that.”

Aemon’s demeanor softened at once and a sad smile crossed his lips as he leaned closer to wrap his hands around her, his hair tickling her nose. He had barely reached to her shoulders when he was ten years old and now he was nearly a man grown. The thought made her sad. Everything was changing too quickly.

“Don’t fret, Rhae,” he promised her and lifted his head. “I shall take care of everything from now on, but perhaps you might consider coming to court? I doubt anyone would think it strange considering that Lord Willas was once father’s squire.”

A chuckle escaped her. She could smack herself. She hadn’t even thought of this possibility.

“I suppose I could do that.”

“It is just,” Aemon said. “I want to visit my mother and Daenerys longs to visit grandmother. I do not intend to go back to King’s Landing at once.”

Rhaenys felt a sting of guilt.

“Of course. I haven’t even considered it…I am such a fool.”

“You are no fool,” Aemon assured her quickly. “It must have been hard to keep that all to yourself. It makes me glad that you shared it with me. It shows me that I am not just your _half-brother_.”

“Who said such nonsense?”

“Your cousins did…Tyene and Obara…and this Daemon Sand.”

“Utter nonsense!” she exclaimed angrily and grabbed his shoulders. “Do you hear. Whatever they said is utter nonsense. You are as much my brother as Aegon. Don’t forget that.”

Aemon said nothing and simply rose back to his feet, offering his hand to her.

“We ought to return or someone might think we are more than just brother and sister.”

“Then, let us go,” she replied and took his hand.

“How did it go?” Willas asked upon her entrance. He was seated on his worktable, a green cloak wrapped around his shoulders. “Did you speak to your brother?”

Rhaenys smiled and closed the door behind her, before walking into Willas arms. She sat down his lap, though she was always mindful of his twisted leg. “I told him everything…he was a bit upset with me.”

“How so?” Willas asked and touched her cheek. His hand and the hem of his tunic was covered with inky stains. The sight made Rhaenys smile. It was one of her husband’s silly habits. “Your younger brother seemed more on the quiet side…” he trailed off.

Rhaenys couldn’t help but laugh. “Aemon can be just as hot-headed as Aegon,” she explained and leaned closer to kiss him.

They kissed slowly and took their time. It was like a weak flame that was being stoked back to life.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Willas chuckled and wrapped his hands around her back, to pull her closer. “You always try to appear to prim and proper, but deep down you are just as much of a dragon. Am I right?”

Rhaenys laughed and nuzzled her cheek against his. She felt a jolt of heat rushing through her whenever they were this close, though they had only done it once. It had been rather quick and nothing more than clumsy fumbling beneath the sheets, but a small failure like that had never bothered Rhaenys. _If you don’t get it right the first time around, you have to try again. It is that simple._

And now she was very much in the mood to try again. The talk with her brother had helped to ease her mind somewhat but had also stirred feelings of guilt. As the oldest, she felt that she was supposed to stay with her mother. For a time, she had even considered stalling the wedding, but her mother had insisted upon it and now it was too late to turn back.

Not that she wanted to turn back. King’s Landing had never felt like her home. Dragonstone and Highgarden came much closer to how she imagined a proper home.

“I could try showing you my inner dragon?” she asked, laughing about her silly attempt to sound seductive. Arianne had given her some tips on how to entice men, but Rhaenys couldn’t do any of the things her cousin had told her without feeling silly. “We still have a handful of hours until supper.”

“I doubt it is going to take hours,” Willas replied brushed his hands beneath her dress. “I fear I am not that talented.”

Rhaenys nodded her head and brushed his hand away, before climbing from his lap. She took some time to pull down her smallclothes, followed by her stockings and slippers. As she turned around she found Willas watching her with a mixture of lust and embarrassment.

He was somewhat experienced, so much she could tell, but his sister Margaery had told her that her brother was not prone to seek out ‘questionable girls’.

“You will have to be careful…you know what I mean,” he reminded her. Rhaenys walked into his arms and settled back into his lap, always mindful of his leg.

He leaned closer and touched her braided hair. “I prefer it open.”

Rhaenys felt her cheeks burn and pulled off the silver clip that held her mane of dark-brown hair together. Free from its constraints her hair spilled all the way down to her waist.

“Better?” she asked and kissed him first lightly and then more eagerly. He smelled of flowers, but not the heavy smell of roses, but lavender mixed with rosemary. When he brushed his hand through her hair, she pulled her head away with a sigh, watching him intently.

“Much better,” he said again and brushed his fingers idly over her blushing neck, his golden eyes hazy with arousal. “Much better.”

“Good,” Rhaenys replied and kissed him once more, her hands fumblings with the bindings of his breeches. Then, she pressed her mouth to his. “And now kiss me and don’t stop until you can’t help it.”

He did as she had asked of him, all thoroughly and slowly as she liked it while his fingers were digging into her hip. She shuddered when she settled unto him…

They came together in a rush of kisses and gaps, leaving her thoroughly satisfied and flushed in the aftermath.

“How was that?” she asked him afterward, still inside her. She still felt the warmth spreading through her belly and hoped it would take root. “Better?”

“Much better,” Willas replied and watched her patiently as she dressed. “But next time I would prefer a more comfortable position.”

“Me too,” Rhaenys admitted and pulled up her hair. “But cousin Arianne says you need to make changes or it will become a boring habit.”

Willas’ golden eyebrows rose to the top of his head. “Your cousin is not married, is she?”

“No,” Rhaenys replied. “She is not.”

Willas said nothing to that, but she knew what he was thinking. Arianne’s antics were known far and wide. It was a slight embarrassment to her mother, who was Queen to these frigid people that had this fixed idea that a woman who was no maid on her marriage day was a whore.

It was a ridiculous notion, but a fact they had to accept.

…


	18. Aemon

**Aemon**

Aemon tried his best to keep a straight face as his mother covered his cheek with a myriad of kisses.

“Please, mother,” he couldn’t help but complain and touched her shoulder. “You are suffocating me.”

“I barely reach to your shoulders,” his mother complained as she lifted her head to cradle his face between her hands, her grey eyes alight with happiness. “There is no chance that I could ever suffocate you, my boy.”

She flashed a grin at Dany, who had watched the whole greeting ritual with amusement. “Dany can say that, but not you.”

Smiling, her mother spread her arms in front of her.

“Are you daring enough, goods-sister?”

Dany laughed and walked straight into his mother’s embrace, before placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Well, I was wrong,” his mother said after she had taken in Dany’s changed appearance. “You have grown…you are now taller than me.”

“That’s not difficult, mother,” his little brother Gaemon remarked from his seat at the table. “In a year or two _even_ I will be taller than you.”

His mother rolled her eyes.

“You better be careful what you say or you will have to do another round of sums, my son,” she threatened him in a light tone.

Gaemon’s lilac eyes widened and he was quick to shift his attention back to his work. He was a quick learner too, but sums were not his favorite kind of topic and the Maester like pestering him with it.

“If you do that Gaemon will sit there all day long,” their little sister, Alysanne added softly. Like so often, she was seated at the cushioned windowsill, her unseeing gaze fixed on the painted window. At times, it looked as if she was watching the birds, but Aemon knew that was impossible.

“So much is true,” Aemon agreed and drew closer to take in his sister’s appearance. She had grown a handful of inches and the plumpness of youthful features had changed into a sharp face with a straight nose and full lips. Aemon and his sister shared their Stark coloring, but her long brown hair was of a lighter color and much smoother. Only their eyes were different. Aemon’s were dark and his sister’s eyes were of a murky grey color. “What about you, little sister? Are you still learning to play the harp?”

She gave him a soft smile and stretched out her hand. Aemon took it and squeezed it lightly before he leaned forward to place a kiss on her brow.

“Do you want to hear me play?”

“Later,” Aemon replied and lifted his sister’s hand towards Dany. She took it and squeezed lightly. “Dany is here.”

Alysanne rolled her eyes. “I am blind, but not deaf.”

Dany laughed and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before her gaze darted to the gulls circling over the sky.

“Have you taken an interest in bird gazing?” she asked jestingly.

Alysanne chuckled and pulled her long braid of sleek brown hair over her shoulder.

“I have been flying.”

Aemon didn’t know what to make of this answer and took it for a jest.

“Sounds very amusing,” was all he replied before he turned around to look at his mother, who was watching Alysanne with a strange expression. “I would prefer to fly a dragon.”

“You have a dragon egg,” Alysanne stated matter-of-factly. “Or have you forgotten about it, brother?”

It was true, but it was only a stone egg.

“If you know a way to hatch it I am willing to share,” Aemon offered and received deep frown from his sister.

Gaemon flashed him a surprised look. “Are you serious? Would you share your dragon also with me?”

“Stop being such a fool,” Alysanne snorted. “Dragons have only one rider.”

Gaemon’s cheeks reddened in an instant and his lilac eyes narrowed in anger.

“I am no fool!” he snapped back. “And dragons are not real anyway. That’s what Maester Pylos says.”

“Maester Pylos knows nothing,” Alysanne threw back. “And you even less.”

Gaemon hopped to his feet.

“And you…you…you…are …,” he struggled for an insult but was promptly pulled backward by their mother, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder and the other on his mouth.

“You are my beloved sister,” their mother said for Gaemon and kissed his cheek. “Isn’t that what you wanted to say, sweetling?”

Gaemon made a face and sat back down.

“I am going to do my sums.”

Lyanna chuckled and led them out of the room into a more secluded chamber, which was furnished with two canopies, rich tapestries, and crimson curtains emblazoned with snarling dragons. Beyond these curtains lay a wooden staircase that led to his grandmother’s private chambers in the tower above.

“Your mother was resting,” his mother told Daenerys. “But she ought to be up now.”

Dany beamed and was quick to push aside the curtains. She had already climbed half the steps when she turned around and waved her hand at Aemon.

“What are you waiting for?”

Aemon nodded his head and followed after her.

His grandmother hadn’t changed much since he had last laid eyes on her. Despite her age, she was still a beautiful woman. Her hair had turned completely silver, but her deep purple eyes, his father’s eyes, were as bright as ever.

“Won’t you come here, daughter?” his grandmother asked Daenerys and spread her arms wide.

Daenerys didn’t hesitate to jump into her arms, the colors of her velvet dress mixing with his grandmother’s light-violet dress.

“You have grown,” his grandmother remarked after she had allowed Daenerys to pull away. “You are now nearly a woman grown.”

Then, his grandmother lifted his head and smiled at Aemon, who was still remained beside the door. As a young child, he wouldn’t have hesitated to jump into her arms, but he was now ten and four and a knight. Knights wouldn’t jump into their grandmother’s arms like little babes.

“Did you hear, mother,” Dany added and jerked her head at Aemon. “Aemon is now a knight.”

When his grandmother’s rosy lips curled upwards he knew that she had heard of his promotion.

“And Aegon too, isn’t that so?” she asked and waved her hand at him, indicating for him to come closer. “Aegon won the joust and you won the tourney? I also heard about your mummery during the joust. Truly, aren’t you two a bit too old for mystery knights?”

Aemon smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on his grandmother’s cheeks. “I think the Queen was very pleased and father also gave his approval beforehand.”

His grandmother said nothing to that and pointed at the chair on the opposing side of the table. Before her lay heap of parchments and a cup of steaming tea

“Your father was always a lover of knightly displays,” his grandmother said with a heavy sigh. “No wonder he fell for your mother. Well, I suppose Aegon made up for his father’s shameful display during the Tourney at Harrenhall, even if it was a dangerous thing to do.”

“It was only a tourney for squires, mother,” Dany explained and sat down after she had pulled a chair closer. “It wasn’t as half as dangerous as you imagine it. And Aegon is an excellent jouster. I do not understand why the Queen coddles him so much.

Their grandmother chuckled and leaned back in her chair, her purple eyes sizing Dany up. “You will understand that once you have children of your own, daughter. You never stop worrying about them.”

As she leaned forward again she rested her chin on her balled fist. “I heard all about Aemon’s and Aegon’s exploits, but you have yet to speak about your own adventures. How are your lessons going? Do you intend to go back to Highgarden?”

Dany smiled and fiddled with the buttons of her dress. Aemon knew why. Dany had enjoyed herself and had neglected her lessons a little during her time in Highgarden. She had also told him that she wanted to remain at Dragonstone, a notion that would not please their grandmother.

“You are nearly a woman grown,” their grandmother replied disapprovingly. “And you need the company of other girls your age.”

“Alysanne is a girl,” Dany pointed out, but his grandmother didn’t seem convinced.

“She is only _one_ girl and younger than you,” his grandmother pointed out and lifted the cup to her lips. When she had put the cup back on the table she spoke again. “How will you learn what it means to be a Lady if you stay here holding unto my skirt? No, it is time, Dany. Time for you to go to court.”

Dany looked unhappy, but like Aemon or everybody else in this castle, he would never dare to speak out against his grandmother.

“Why are you so sad about grandmother’s plans for you?” Aemon asked her later after they had climbed up to see _the Chamber of the Painted Table_. He was walking along the table and admired the paintings on the surface. It showed Westeros in all its glory. There was no better map to be found in the Seven Kingdoms, apart from the Citadel. “And we will be able to spend more time together.”

Dany rolled her eyes and leaned forward, her silver hair spilling unto the Reach as she moved her hand over the capital. “For sure, but what kind of time? I will have to spend all day with these other girls while you get to enjoy yourself with Robb and Harry. I liked it in the Reach, but I hate riding side-saddle, these tight-laced dresses, and the constant embroidery lessons.”

“You could try learning something else,” Aemon offered. “How about the harp? Then, nobody will ask you about your embroidery lessons.”

“I am not that musical,” she pointed out and lifted her head. “The Septa in Highgarden called my voice clumsy.”

“You know what I am good at,” she added suddenly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “I am good at riding. If I was a bit stronger I could easily partake in the joust. In Dorne nobody would ask me to do embroidery. Rhaenys said so.”

“Sadly, Dorne is not the rest of Westeros,” Aemon agreed. “They may hate me, but their customs aren’t that bad. I also never understood this obsession with saddles. Who wants to ride like that? It looks very unpractical.”

“It is,” Dany agreed, her brows furrowed. “But the only way to ride with a dress. The first time, I put on breeches the other girls laughed at me. That night, I poured a cup of milk over Elinor Tyrell’s dress. She never laughed at me again, but Lady Alerie had a sharp word with me on the next day. Well, Lady Margaery found it amusing and her grandmother told me I ought to do that more often if they bother me.”

What Dany told him was not hard to believe.

“The Queen of Thorns is the true ruler of the Reach… Rhaenys told me that at once,” Aemon said and recalled this doll of a woman with bright golden eyes and a tongue as sharp as Valyrian Steel. “I suppose getting her approval is akin to praise.”

Dany chuckled and returned to his side. There she stopped and traced her hand over the Stormlands.

“Rhaegar says Summerhall will be finished in a year or two,” she explained and took his hand. Her touch felt warm and comforting. He squeezed her hand in return but refrained from doing more. Their grandmother had her eyes and ears everywhere in this castle. He feared her scorn more than anything in the world. “But Lady Shireen is younger than Aegon. It would be unseemly to get wed before your older brother.”

Aemon puffed out a handful of air and elbowed her. “So much is true, but it also means we will be able to live far away from King’s Landing. In Summerhall you will be able to dress and ride as you like. I might even show you how to use a blade as you had asked of me before.”

Dany frowned. “I was a little girl back then and I doubt I can lift one of your heavy blades. Something smaller would be better.”

Aemon nodded his head agreement. “I am sure we will find something that suits you. Well, for now, you will have to be satisfied with archery. Mayhaps my mother can take you hunting.”

Dany’s smile was as bright as a star as she clapped her hands together.

“Oh, I think I have missed that the most! The hunts in Highgarden are only half as exciting as your mother's. I only need my mother’s approval.”

“A hard task,” he jested and slung his arm around her shoulder, to pull her closer. “A very hard task.”

Dany laughed and pressed her brow against his, their breath mingling.

Aemon might have just broken his convictions, but the creaking door directed his attention elsewhere.

“There you are, brother,” Gaemon said cheerfully and poked his head into the room. He looked around and giggled when he noticed how close they stood together. “Did I interrupt something?”

Aemon felt the need to kick his brother when he noticed his bloody grin. By the morrow, the entire castle would know about this.

“Nothing,” Dany added unbothered by his sudden appearance. “What brings you here, _little_ nephew?”

Gaemon’s lilac eyes narrowed in displeasure. He hated it to be called little. Especially, whenever Alysanne did it.

“Aemon promised to show me his egg,” he explained and hopped anxiously from one foot to the other. “Alysanne and mother forbade me to take it out while you are gone, but now you are back…I just want to take a brief look. Perhaps it is different now!”

Aemon doubted that, but he didn’t want to destroy his brother’s hopes.

“Sure,” Aemon replied and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look.”

Aemon’s chamber was much smaller than the one he had in King’s Landing, but coming here still felt like coming home. The smell of the salt and sea penetrated every part of these stone walls. It was a familiar smell, the smell of home.

“Here,” Aemon said and crawled beneath his bed, to reach for the wooden box, decorated with silver dragons. “Let’s see.”

He was a little bit embarrassed that he had chosen such a childish hiding place, but then he had been only ten years old when he had received this egg and ever since he had never bothered to find a better hiding place.

Gaemon knelt beside him and looked as if he was about to piss himself. Aemon exchanged an amused smile with Dany before he pulled the box open and picked the egg from its sleeping place.

The egg felt warm, but even so, the Maester had insisted that the egg was dead.

“Can I hold it?” Gaemon asked excitedly.

“Sure,” Aemon agreed and placed the egg in Gaemon’s arms. “But do not drop it.”

“I would never do that!” Gaemon exclaimed and lifted it into the air. The light of Dany’s candle fell upon the egg’s surface, making it glow in colors of gold-and-green. It was a beautiful sight to behold. “I would never drop something so precious!”

“Nobody thinks that,” Dany assured him and patted Gaemon’s shoulder. “Aemon was just vexing you.”

Gaemon nodded his head and pressed the egg to his ear as if he hoped to hear a sign of life.

Disappointment showed written all over his little brother’s face.

“Maybe next time,” Aemon reassured him and ruffled his brother’s silver hair. “Maybe next time.”

…


	19. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

A bright blue sky greeted them today. It seemed the gods had blessed their coming together with sunshine and little rain, but Rhaella would have been more pleased if her grandchildren hadn’t insisted on dragging her outside to this windy meadow not far from Dragonstone.

It was barren land, but Rhaegar didn’t mind. He had been in a strangely good mood all morning as he had watched how the men had erected the pavilion. Only her grandchildren, especially Gaemon, were even more enthusiastic to receive so many visitors.

That was no surprise to Rhaella. Dragonstone had become more like a place of exile for the former Queen and Lady Lyanna, her son’s second wife and lover. Aemon had been called to court when he was six years old, but so far Rhaegar had made no attempts to do the same for his younger children. In regards to Alysanne, she understood why he was refraining from doing so, but Gaemon was a healthy boy and showed more Targaryen blood than his older brother Aemon. There was no reason to hide him away on this dreary island that had become Rhaella’s refuge.

Her grandson Gaemon was not like her. He was young and vibrant and needed space to spread his wings. Her granddaughter Alysanne was even more in need of company, but Rhaella understood why Rhaegar kept her here, protected from the vile world that would only scorn her for her affliction.

At times, Rhaella’s heart ached for the young girl. She had inherited Rhaegar’s melancholic character, but also much from her stubborn mother. Especially, her sharp tongue might chase away her potential suitors. Southron Lords preferred pliable and pious girls, but Alysanne was nothing like that. She had neither respect for the gods nor any tolerance for other girls, besides Rhaenys or Daenerys. She was a loner through and through like her Rhaegar had been throughout his early youth.

_Tywin offered his youngest son for Alysanne_, Rhaella recalled with displeasure, no doubt to humiliate the girl. Not that Rhaella hated the pitiful boy that had taken Joanna Lannister’s life, but she mistrusted Tywin’s intentions. He had always desired more power than he ought to. Aerys had been right about that, though he had been right about little else.

_He is gone_, she reminded herself and felt a gust of cold wind washing over her. Thinking of her late husband always filled her with dread. _He is gone._

“First the cake!” Gaemon demanded happily and watched as the two servants placed the cake on the table, his paper crown nearly falling from his head. “Is it a cream cake?”

“It is, little brother,” Alysanne said with a hint of mockery after she had dipped her finger into the cake and had tasted the sweet covering. “And now we don’t have need of a food taster, my Lords.”

Hushed laughter could be heard from some, but not all of the assembled guests. Lord Guncer Sunglass had nearly choked on his cup of wine and Ser Aurane Waters was snickering beside the other guardsmen.

The young man promptly received a cold glare from Ser Bonifer Hasty, which silenced the bothersome boy at once.

Rhaella was thankful that Ser Bonifer was keeping an eye on the young man that was often creeping around Alysanne and the other girls. Unlike many noble ladies, Rhaella held no dislike for bastards, but Ser Aurane Waters was a special kind of bastard. He had already fathered one babe on one of Mistress Rachelle’s chambermaids and had fathered another babe on one of the kitchen maids. The first child was now being raised by Lord Monford, who had little choice in this matter, as his bloodline had grown thin, but the other babe, a sickly girl, had only recently perished from a fever.

“Is the cake to your liking, sweetling?” Lady Lyanna asked and touched her son’s silver locks. She looked much younger than her years, but the reason could also be the dress. It was bright blue and she had woven winter roses into her unbound hair, a color that suited her much better than the red-and-black dresses she had commissioned so long ago on Rhaella’s advice. The fact that Rhaegar had come to celebrate their children’s nameday seemed to please her even more.

Especially, Gaemon was smiling from one ear to the other, bits and pieces of cream covering his cheek as he stuffed another piece of cake into his mouth while his sister Alysanne was eating slowly and carefully.

Gaemon had none such qualms. He was promptly stuffing another piece of cake into his mouth while the servants were walking from table to table, serving cakes on silver plates.

“Aegon would love this,” her grandson Aemon remarked softly.

Daenerys nodded her head in agreement and plunged her silver spoon into the white cream, a smile spreading over her lips.

“How could he not?” asked Daenerys. “This is heaven. Well, he is in King’s Landing. He can just demand cream cake whenever he wants.”

“He is the Crown Prince, not the King,” Rhaella reminded her daughter. “And I doubt Queen Elia would want to see her son turn fat.”

“Aegon is too restless for that,” Aemon replied. “If he could he would spend all day on the practice yard. A bit of cake wouldn’t harm him. Rhaenys on the other hand. I think she might become a bit pudgy if the Tyrells feed her too much cake.”

“Don’t let Rhaenys hear that!” Daenerys chided Aemon and slapped his shoulder. “She would make you pay for that.”

“I better beware,” Aemon agreed with obvious amusement. He was in a much better mod since his father had returned. The two had always been close, but at times she felt that her grandson missed him terribly, for even in King’s Landing they were rarely alone. “Nothing is more frightening than an angry Rhaenys!”

Daenerys laughed. “Do you remember when Aegon cut off her braid?”

“I remember,” Aemon whispered, but closed his mouth when he noticed that Rhaella was still listening.

“What is it?” Rhaella asked. “Why did you stop your tale, grandson? I think I can even recall the incident you are referring to. Let me think…Didn’t Rhaenys pay Aegon back by putting horseshit into his bed?”

“Aye!” Daenerys said and broke out in laughter. “I think that was the only time you punished her, grandmother.”

“I didn’t even have to punish her,” Rhaella replied and smiled at the memory. “Rhaenys came to me herself and asked to be punished.”

“Rhaenys was always to proper for her own good. If she was born a man she could have become the next High Septon,” Daenerys added.

_Or a Queen_, Rhaella thought. _Like myself._

Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if Aerys had died in his cradle and she would have been left as her father’s only heir.

Rhaella was by no means vain, but she had the feeling that she would have done better work than Aerys, who had always allowed himself to be influenced by his restless emotions.

“Now that we are enjoying our cake we ought to address the matter of the gifts,” Lady Lyanna added and pressed a kiss to Gaemon’s cheek. “What do you say, Rhaegar?”

“I agree,” her son added with a warm smile and waved his hand at their guests, who were seated at trestle tables. “What do you say, my lords?”

“A good idea, your Grace,” said Lord Monford Velaryon and rose to his feet. He was a handsome man with long, fair hair and liked to wear a sea-green silk cloak held together by a seahorse brooch.

As he had said this, he waved his hand at his page boy, a dwarf of a child with silver hair and freckles. Not long after, the boy returned with two manservants, one leading a fine black horse and the other carrying some sort of bird...a hawk.

_Gods be good_, Rhaella thought when she noticed Lord Velaryon’s smile. _What are my grandchildren going to do with a hawk?_

“These gifts were funded by all of us,” Lord Valeryon explained and waved his hand at the other men. There was Lord Adrian Celtigar, a sour and old man, who had rarely visited Dragonstone since King Aerys’s death. Lord Duram Bar Emmon, a fat and feeble young man, but sweet of nature. He was often a guest at Dragonstone and he liked to go riding with Alysanne and Gaemon. Rhaella had considered him as a possible match for Alysanne, but she wasn’t sure if Lady Lyanna and Rhaegar would agree. At last came, Lord Guncer Sunglass, a pious man of middle age, whose presence had surprised Rhaella even more. He had always shown his disapproval for her son’s second marriage by sending his younger brother as a substitute. “A fine horse for young Prince Gaemon and a hawk for Princess Alysanne.”

Gaemon beamed and jumped to his feet, his hands quickly brushing over the animal’s mane soft brown hair. It was a young horse, not older than two years, so much even Rhaella could tell. It was a fine horse, noble and elegant, the right mount for a Prince.

“Does he have a name?” Gaemon asked Lord Valeryon.

“Caraxes,” Lord Valeryon explained. “What do you think, my Prince?”

“I like it,” Gaemon replied happily and pressed his cheek against the animal’s head. Then, she shifted his attention back to his father. “Can I ride it, father?”

The nod of Rhaegar’s head was all that he needed before he climbed on the horse’s back and kicked the animal’s flank.

Not long after, her grandson’s laughter was ringing through the air. It was a sweet sound that made her heart swell with warmth.

Her son’s lords didn’t seem to share her feelings. Lord Valeryon looked worried as he watched Gaemon spur the animal to an even faster pace.

“Is that wise without a saddle?” he asked and received a disarming smile from Lady Lyanna.

“That’s just my son’s Stark blood stirring, my Lord.”

Lord Valeryon smiled tensely, his eyes following Gaemon all the way.

“I thank you, my lords,” Gaemon thanked them obediently and climbed from his horse. “That is a fine gift.”

“And now to Princess Alysanne,” Lord Valeryon added and shifted his attention to her granddaughter. “Someone informed us that you are fond of birds. We thought a hawke is a fine gift for a young Princess.”

Rhaella watched her granddaughter closely and was surprised to see a smile crossing her lips.

Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna looked surprised and exchanged stunned looks as the manservant came forward with the bird.

It was a merlin with silver-grey wings, which were known for their gentle disposition. Rhaella’s friend Lady Joanna had liked to keep these kinds of birds in Casterly Rock’s extensive menagerie.

It was indeed a fine gift for a Princess, but Rhaella didn’t know what her granddaughter would do with a bird she couldn’t even see.

“I am thankful for your generous gift, my Lords,” Alysanne replied unusually polite. “Does the gracious bird have a name?”

“_Storm_,” the manservant replied fondly. “A fine name for a fine bird.”

“Indeed,” her granddaughter agreed and stretched out her hand to touch her father’s arm. “May I touch him?”

“Of course, sweetling,” Rhaegar replied warmly, thought Rhaella noted the hint of skepticism in son’s dark eyes. “Let me help you.”

Rhaegar took her arm and led her towards the manservant. The bird cocked his head left and right as her granddaughter approached.

“Here, Princess,” the manservant explained and lowered his arm a little. “Princess…wait…;” he tried to warn Alysanne, but her granddaughter and the bird were much faster.

Rhaella was surprised by how smart the bird proved. Instead of being agitated he lowered his head and brushed it against her granddaughter’s hand.

“His feathers are so soft,” Alysanne said in awe and pulled back her hand. Then, she smiled and jerked her head towards the manservant. She must have heard his movements. “He is well-trained and very fond of you. Did you raise him?”

The young man, a boy of maybe twenty namedays, blushed and dipped his mob of straw-blond hair.

“Aye, Princess. I have been breeding them since I can walk. My grandfather also bred merlins and his father before him.”

“Then, I want you to stay here and care for him,” her granddaughter asked of the young man. “I also want you to teach me everything you know about hawking.”

She had turned back as she had said this and was now reaching for Rhaegar’s arm. “Do you think that is possible, father?”

“Of course,” Rhaegar was quick to agree. He rarely refused his daughters. “What is your name, my boy?”

“Roger, your Grace,” the young man stuttered and averted his gaze when Rhaegar looked at him. “My name is Roger.”

“Well then, Roger,” Rhaegar added with an encouraging smile. “You shall be the bird’s personal caretaker…only if you agree of course?”

Roger lifted his gaze and gave her son a surprised look.

He was obviously not used to being asked for his opinion.

“Are you serious, your Grace?”

“Of course,” Rhaegar confirmed. “I am not prone to jesting.”

The young man blushed.

“Of course not, your Grace!”

“Is that a yes?” Rhaegar inquired once more, probably to make sure that the young man understood that he was serious about this matter.

“Of course!” the young man agreed and dipped his head over and over again. “Of course!”

Not long after, the sky darkened and the nameday celebration was shortened by a sudden bout of rain. It was a common occurrence and no bother to her grandchildren.

They remained cheerful throughout the entire day. Gaemon was enchanted by the fool Lord Bar Emmon had brought with him. The other lords were more interested in the fine Arbor and the roasted swan stuffed with carrots, potatoes and covered with a cream sauce. They had no need for a singer that night, for Alysanne played up a handful of clumsy songs.

Not that it mattered much to these drunken lot of men. Rhaegar could have played up the bawdiest song and they would have praised her abilities with the harp.

Rhaella had observed this all with an air of distance. She held no love for wine nor did her aching bones allow her to dance, but it had pleased her to see her grandson Aemon share a dance with Daenerys, his mother, and sister. She knew how much he disliked dancing, though he only seemed really upset when Lady Lyanna made him place his hand on her hip.

_Viserys was just as silly_, Rhaella recalled and wished he was here with them. _I only hope he proves better when he's going to dance at his own wedding._

Viserys’ future bride was another issue that had been bothering her for a long time. He was old enough to be wed, but finding a suitable bride that pleased both her and Rhaegar and Viserys was not easy.

_I shall talk with my son_, she promised to herself when she climbed up the numerous leading up to her chamber. By every passing year, it felt more like a burden, but that was only her age showing its effect.

When she entered the dimly-lit chamber she noticed Master Pylo's presence, whose chambers were not located far from hers.

“A raven came this evening, your Grace,” he explained and stretched out his hand, showing her the scroll. “From your son. It is urgent.”

Rhaella’s heartbeat sped up when she picked the parchment from the man’s hand and unrolled it within the matter of a heartbeat.

She read quickly and felt only dread when she had finished reading.

Viserys was well, but the Queen’s health had worsened.

“I must leave at once,” Rhaegar informed her later after he had read over the piece of parchment for the hundred time that day. “Viserys wouldn’t write if it wasn’t urgent. Better today than on the morrow. Aemon will come with me.”

Rhaella nodded her head, her gaze darting to Lyanna, whose cheeks were as pale as fresh-fallen snow.

“Do you think that is wise, Rhaegar?” Lady Lyanna asked anxiously and touched arm. “The Queen’s kin might see it as an insult.”

“I am taking him there for Aegon’s sake,” was all her son replied and pulled Lady Lyanna’s hand up to his lips. “He might have need of a brother. Do you mind?”

“No,” Lady Lyanna replied in an unusually soft tone and bit her lips for a brief moment, before continuing to speak. “I know…there is nothing better than to have the comfort of a brother.”

Rhaella said nothing and felt guilt washing over her. She ought to go as well, but she couldn’t bear going back to the Red Keep. Too many ghosts of her past were chasing through these old halls.

“I shall take care of Dragonstone, son,” she promised instead. “You don’t have to fret about anything.”

Rhaegar smiled sadly and embraced her.

“I know that mother, but I fear there will be much to fret about in the future.”

Rhaella said nothing to that and simply kissed Rhaegar’s cheek.

It was the only assurance she could give him.

…


	20. Viserys

**Viserys**

The air was heavy with the smell of incense as Viserys stepped into the Queen’s chamber. Archmaester Marwyn and Grand Maester Theobald stood beside the wall, their robes strained with herbs and all kinds of other substances he couldn’t identify.

They spoke in hushed whispers while Aegon, who was seated beside the Queen’s bed was watching them with a sour expression. His nephew was usually of a sunny disposition, but today he looked as if the world was about to end.

Viserys couldn’t fault him for it. The Queen’s health had always been a changing thing. To Viserys it had always been clear that the Queen would not live to old age, but it seemed Aegon had not realized this now, which was most likely the reason it had hint him the hardest.

His niece Rhaenys seemed strangely composed, though Viserys knew her well enough to look beyond her façade. ‘The Septa’ Aegon had always called her and thus she had lived, always trying to appear prim and proper, but Viserys wondered how long she was able to keep up her stoic composure.

Viserys had only lost one person in his young life: his father. Yet, he had been far too young to understand what that meant. Now he would have reacted much differently, he was sure.

“Prince Viserys,” Marwyn’s serious voice snapped him back to the present, and to Viserys’ embarrassment, he was suddenly standing before him. “Would you move aside?”

“Of course, Archmaester,” Viserys replied in a flustered tone and stepped aside, allowing the Archmaester to pass through the door, to the anteroom, where two guardsmen had been placed to keep out unwanted visitors. Only the royal family was allowed to enter, though Viserys doubted all too many would make it in time. The Queen’s coughing and pale skin-tone told him that it wouldn’t be long.

Not that Viserys could claim to have the knowledge of a Maester, but he had seen what the consumption could do to people, for Lord Royce’s elderly sister had perished from the same sickness.

_Poor Lady Ysilla_, Viserys thought as she shifted his attention to the girl of his heart, seated between two of the Queen’s ladies. One was the dark-haired Lady Allyria Dayne and the other was the Queen’s niece, Lady Tyene Sand, the prettiest of Prince Oberyn’s daughters.

Yet, Viserys couldn’t care less about that girl. His interest was directed elsewhere, namely, Lady Ysilla Royce, who was reading with Lady Allyria Dayne from the Seven-Pointed-Star, laid out on Lady Tyene’s lap.

All the ladies were clad in somber colors their minds focused on their task, though Viserys had no idea how reading from the Seven-Pointed-Star could be of help to the Queen.

If there were any gods, to begin with, his mother wouldn’t have suffered the loss of so many children. 

“Viserys,” Ysilla Royce’s gentle voice caused him to lift his head. “I think someone is asking for your attention.”

Viserys blushed again when he noticed that Rhaenys, who was now standing beside Aegon, was waving her hand at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered back to Lady Ysilla, who returned his answer with a gentle smile that made Viserys’ heart skip a beat. He knew it was shameful to act like this, but he couldn’t help it.

_Pull yourself together_, Viserys reminded himself and stepped towards the Queen’s sickbed. The Queen gave him a weak smile, as he sat down beside Aegon, who kept his gaze firmly fixed on his clutched hands. For the blink of a moment, he looked again like the stubborn little boy who used to called Dany’s cat stupid. Just like back then, it seemed Aegon was no prepared to accept the truth.

_This will be hard for him_, Viserys realized and returned the Queen’s smile. _Very heart._

He had to lean down to be able to hear her strained voice.

“Will you call for the King?”

Aegon suddenly lifted his head and gave his mother a startled look.

“You want to speak to father?” he asked and trembled from head to toe. “Why?”

“You know why,” the Queen replied in a strained voice and pulled once more on Viserys’ arm. “Would you call for the King?”

“Of course,” Viserys was about to say, but Rhaenys was already out of the door.

“Rhae will get father,” Aegon added anxiously and flexed his hand. “Don’ fret, mother.”

Viserys felt very helpless as he regarded the Queen. It made him wish his mother was here, but she had sworn that she would never set another step into King’s Landing.

“Aegon,” Viserys began, but his words died in his mouth when his nephew’s dark purple eyes met his.

“Perhaps you ought to lead the ladies outside,” his nephew offered and Viserys was more than thankful for his suggestion.

Even so, he minded his manners.

Thus, he dipped his head and graced the Queen with a hesitant smile.

“I shall keep your ladies company, your Grace,” he replied and shifted his attention back to the ladies, who had already risen to their feet.

They each took their leave from the Queen, some more tearful than others before Viserys walked them out to the corridor, where he asked the guardsmen to bring chairs.

The ladies thanked him for his effort, but Lady Tyene decided to stand guard beside the door and Lady Allyria decided to seek out her Uncle and Rhaenys, leaving only Viserys and Lady Ysilla.

Her shy smile made his heart race and made him feel ashamed of himself. The Queen was dying and he was courting one of her ladies. His mother would pull off his ear if she knew what he was doing.

“It’s all very hard for us,” she added in obvious discomfort and fiddled with the hem of her dress. “We all like the Queen.”

“I like her too,” Viserys replied. It was true, but he couldn’t really claim to know her that well. He had spent most of his youth in the Vale and before that time in company of his mother. His brother and Elia Martell had rarely lingered in King’s Landing during his father’s reign. “I just do not know what to say. I feel so helpless.”

Lady Ysilla said nothing and simply jerked her head at the corridor. “I know it is unseemly, but I need to return to the Maidenvault. Do you want to accompany me?”

Viserys couldn’t believe his luck but remained hesitant.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied and offered his hand to her. “And I do not quite understand what would be unseemly about it. We are almost like brother and sister.”

The Lady took his arm without hesitation.

“Well, that doesn’t mean much for a Targaryen, now does it?” she asked and graced him with a mischievous smile.

“No,” he replied and led her along the corridor, down the steps, towards the Maidenvault. “But no all Targaryens lust after their sisters. I certainly don’t lust after mine…My nephew would punch my face if I tried anything.”

“Good to hear,” Lady Ysilla replied and chuckled when the gaze of the guardsmen followed them. “Well, I never took you for a common Targaryen. You are quite different.”

Viserys didn’t know what to make of that, but her smile told him that she was comfortable.

Still, he was curious to hear what she meant.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” Ysilla said and bit her lips, before elaborating on the meaning of her words. “You are quite honest…Well, my father thinks all Targaryens are liars.”

Viserys shouldn’t be surprised. Lord Royce had never made a secret of his dislike for his brother.

“I cannot deny that your father has reason to dislike my brother,” he argued. “And my brother has his failures, but he is not a liar.”

“I know that,” Lady Ysilla replied and waved her hand at the right corridor, where her chambers could be found. “But try to see it from my father’s perspective. In his eyes your brother is a dishonorable adulterer who stole Lord Robert’s bride and threw the realm into a terrible war.”

Viserys had grabbed her shoulders before she could have said more. She really was new at court.

“I have great respect for your father,” Viserys whispered and leaned closer. “But there are many things he does not understand. And you should be careful to voice such thoughts in the presence of others. Nothing ever remains a secret in these halls.”

Lady Ysilla’s eyes glittered with curiosity.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” Viserys replied and realized how dangerous their talk had become. Instead of elaborating further, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “And now I must take my leave, my Lady.”

As he was about to pull away, Lady Ysilla grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer to place a kiss on his cheek.

Viserys had been so surprised by her actions that he could only stare back at her in utter confusion.

“I was right…you are still _different_,” Lady Ysilla replied and let go of him before disappearing into her chamber.

…


	21. Aegon

**Aegon**

Aegon couldn’t bare to look at his mother or the bloody tears might flow at any moment. He was a man grown and yet he felt still like a babe.

Rhaenys was only three years older than him, but much more composed, but then his sister had always acted more grown up than other girls. She had been the first to know how to read, the one that was able to memorize all houses of Westeros and who could play the harp as masterfully as their father.

Aegon was much less impressive. Even now often had a hard time in remembering the names of the Lords of the Lords of the Iron Islands. Playing the harp was another thing he had failed at, but then none of his other siblings were as musical as Rhaenys.

He had never been jealous of Rhaenys, but in that moment he wished that he had his sister’s composure, for that was exactly what every one was expecting of him. To act like a Prince and a future King.

Even so, Aegon felt like a little boy. Like an Egg instead of an Aegon. It made him wonder if Aegon the Conqueror had been forced to watch his mother perish, but then there was little known about his parents besides their names. No, mothers were rarely remembered nor Queen that had served unless they had been as fiery as Queen Visenya or as gentle and wise as Queen Alysanne. The other unknown Queens were often forgotten by history, though the deeds of their husbands were written to the last detail. There had been Rhaena who could have been instead of her brother King Jaehaerys. Then, there had been a Rhaenys and at last Rhaenerya, who had been betrayed by her own brother.

Aegon wondered what his mother and grandmother would be remembered for. One had been Queen to his mad grandfather and the other one was Queen to King Rhaegar, the first of his Name and the one that had broken all tradition by taking a second wife.

_And what will I be remembered for_, he wondered when he felt Rhaenys’ touch on his arm. _Will they call me King Egg the Sixth of his Name, the foolish and incapable child king?_

“Brother,” Rhaenys whispered again, a bit louder. This time it was enough to cause Aegon to lift his head and look first at his sister and then at his mother. “I think I should to leave.”

Aegon said nothing had quickly grabbed for her arm to keep her in place. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want to be alone with this burden, but Rhaenys’ sad look told him otherwise.

“Mother asked for it,” Rhaenys whispered into his hear and placed a kiss on his cheek. “And father should be here soon, Egg.”

“Aegon,” he corrected her and she gave a silent nod in return before stepping out of the chamber. Archmaester Marwyn had returned and was watching him from beyond the anteroom. His Uncle Viserys had left not long ago in company of the ladies and Rhaenys had returned, promising to bring their father. “My name is Aegon.”

“Aegon,” his mother’s strained voice caused him to turn around, her trembling hand reaching for his.

Aegon took it without hesitating and shuddered when he felt how cold it felt.

“Why did you send Rhaenys away?” he asked his mother and leaned closer so she was able to hear his answer.

“Because I have told her everything she needed to hear,” his mother whispered and tightened her grip on his hand.

Aegon swallowed hard and tried his best to ignore his burning eyes.

“Then, what is it that I need to hear, mother?”

“Only two things,” she said and coughed. “Only two things.”

Aegon nodded his head in understanding. “What two things are you referring to…,” he trailed off, feeling again like a helpless babe.

“First,” his mother said. “You must finally grow-up and stop being like a little boy.”

“I will do that,” he promised without hesitation, though he was not sure if he would be able to fulfil his promise. “What is the second thing?”

“When you become King…,” she whispered and paused, then continued slowly. “My brothers might try turning you against your half-siblings. This is my advice…Ignore their council on this matter. They mean well, but they do not know your siblings. They think it is a matter of honor, but in truth it is only something between you and my father. It is none of their business and I never needed their defense. I was always able to stand on my two feet.”

Aegon said nothing for a long time, for he hadn’t expected such blunt words from his mother.

“Do you understand,” his mother asked, much louder than before. The sound of her strained voice made Aegon wince, but she was smiling.

Aegon nodded his head in confirmation and returned her smile. “I think I understand, but there was never any reason for you to fret about this matter, mother. No matter what my Uncle says, I would never my siblings. Never.”

“You say that now,” his mother said. “But you don’t know what will be in the future. I cannot even count how many times I and Oberyn nursed a grudge against each other over some silly matter. And Doran and I…we never saw eye to eye on certain matters. For you and your half-siblings…it will be even harder. You will see.”

Aegon disagreed with her on this matter, but now certainly wasn’t the time to argue.

“I promise again… there will be no quarrels between myself and my siblings,” Aegon said and would have probably said more, but the sound of footfalls caused him to turn around.

It was his Lord Father.

Within the blink of a moment, he didn’t know what to say or to do. His Father was no man prone to smiling, but now he looked more serious than ever.

“You should go now,” his mother encouraged him and let go of his hand. “I must speak alone with your father.”

Aegon wanted to refuse, but his mother’s sad smile made him go along with her wishes.

“As you wish, mother,” he said and pressed her cold hand to his lips before rising back to his feet.

He said nothing to his father, but then he doubted he had expected him to speak. Aegon loved his father, but sharing emotions was not something they usually did. In that way, his father was much like Rhaenys. He kept his feelings locked away in his heart.

When Aegon had closed the door behind him, he felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but a heartbeat later he felt very ashamed of himself.

Behind him, he heard Rhaenys’ voice, who must have waited in the anteroom.

How could he even think of his mother as a burden? I was such a disgusting thought that it caused him to bolt down the corridor, past the guards and then back to his chambers.

There he tried to calm his mind, but he found no peace. First, he wanted to go back, but instead he called for one of the page boys to bring him a flagon of wine.

He needed something to calm his nerves, something to make it easier.

The wine was dry and bitter on his tongue, but worked better than he thought possible. One, two, three and four cups of wine were enough to swaddle his mind in false comfort, even if it would last only for few hours.

It was the tolling of the bells that woke him. His head pounded viciously, but when he noticed standing in his chamber, his discomfort changed to overwhelming misery.

It felt as if someone had punched him in the gust or had pierced his heart with a dagger, twisting it over and over again.

Rhaenys looked at him with a forlorn expression that reminded him of his father, though when she narrowed her dark eyes she looked like their mother and maybe also a bit like Aemon and Alysanne.

Aegon could only shrug his shoulders in a helpless gesture, unable to voice is feelings in this matter.

Rhaenys said nothing and simply bridged the distance, enclosing Aegon in a fierce hug.

Then, the tears came and the pain and the misery, all at once, like a wave overcoming a ship caught in a storm.

Even so, he said nothing, his head on his sister’s chest, feeling her breath and strong heartbeat.

And perhaps that wasn’t even necessary.

Sometimes, saying nothing was better than to fill the world with useless brabble.

…


	22. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

The feast that followed after the Queen’s funeral was a somber affair, but that was to be expected. That the Queen’s kin was here was no surprise nor that the other great lords of the realm had each sent their representatives. There was Willas Tyrell who had accompanied Rhaenys, his elderly grandmother, the Lady Alerie and her two sons. Loras Tyrell had even discarded his flower cloak and was wearing black. Of the Stormlords only Lord Stannis, his daughter Lady Shireen and his brother Renly had come. Lord Benjen had come to represent the North, the Westerlands were represented by Kevan Lannister, the Riverlands were represented by the Lord Edmure Tully and his wife Lady Eleanor Mooton and the Vale was represented by Lord Nestor Royce, the High Steward of the Vale.

Yet, Daenerys focus was on the Dornish. Of course, Prince Oberyn was there with his Paramour, Lady Ellaria Sand, a beautiful woman with bronze skin and dark eyes. His daughters Obara Sand and Tyene Sand had been in the Queen’s company for years, but this time he had also brought his younger daughters. Rhaenys had told her their names, but Dany couldn’t remember them all. There was Nymeria, a tall beauty with sleek black hair, Elia Sand, who was not as great as a beauty as her older sisters, but had a sweet smile. It was a sad occasion that brought them here, but Dany couldn’t help but to chuckle whenever the little girls were playing with their mother’s dress. That this was a funeral feast was probably not even clear to them, but then it was always hard for children to remain still, no matter the circumstances and Lady Ellaria Sand seemed to understand that well, for she was constantly talking to them and feeding them with bread and turnip soup.

All in all, it shouldn’t really be called a feast, for there were only three dishes served: turnip soup, fish with potato mush and sweet plums soaked in honey. Her brother had wanted it like this, though lavish funeral feasts were not uncommon in Westeros. No doubt, the Queen’s kin were thinking ill of him for it.

_The Queen forgave our brother_, Viserys had told her when she had arrived here in King’s Landing. _And our brother wept afterwards, though I cannot say if it were tears of happiness or sadness._

Dany didn’t know why he was surprised, but then Viserys didn’t know their brother as well as she. He had spent too many years away in the Vale.

Rhaegar was King, but he was still a human being. He might not have loved his Queen as much as he had loved his Lady Lyanna, but he had nonetheless cared for her. Causing her pain had never been a pleasure to him.

“I am surprised Prince Doran didn’t come,” Aemon said beside her, his soup still untouched. He hadn’t eaten all day. This bothered Dany, but then Aegon was much the same, though he was not just starving himself, but also staring at the ceiling.

Rhaenys sat between him and her husband. She wore a plain dress, all black. She had not cried, though, but then crying was never one of Rhaenys’ habits.

_She is crying silent tears_, Dany thought as she brought the cup to her lips. It was Dornish wine, sour and burning on the tongue. A fitting wine and probably a gift from Prince Oberyn, who looked even gloomier than the Septa that had educated Dany in the Faith of the Seven.

Dany had heard many rumors about him, namely that he was a man that enjoyed chasing every pleasure he could find and that he and his beautiful Paramount brought men and women alike into their bed. Dany doubted that all of it was true, but it was an undeniable fact that he had fathered seven bastard daughters.

“Dany,” Aemon whispered into her ear and pulled on her arm. “Are you listening?”

Dany nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“I heard Doran Martell’s sickness makes it impossible for him to travel,” she answered and shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose that is the reason he is not here.”

Aemon said nothing to that and jerked his head at the beautiful girl seated next to Ellaria Sand and Quentyn Martell. It was Princess Arianne Martell, Prince Doran’s heir and a girl of stunning beauty. Dany envied her a little for her beautiful bronze skin, her sleek black hair and her generous bosom.

“Not even for his sister?” Aemon asked after a moment of silence had passed between them.

Dany clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“I am sure he has his reasons.”

“Sure,” Aemon said, his dark eyes darting to Aegon, who was watching Rhaenys with a mixture of sadness and longing. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was unworthy of me.”

“What do you think of Princess Arianne?” Aemon asked in an obvious attempt to change the topic. “I think Viserys was a fool to reject her.”

Dany covered her mouth to hide her smile.

“Viserys wants Lady Ysilla Royce. I heard he bid my brother to ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Well, that will be rather difficult.”

Dany gave her nephew a curious look.

“How so?”

“They say Lord Royce wishes for a match with Harry.”

Dany wasn’t surprised and lifted her head to take a glance at Viserys, who was seated beside her brother. His lilac eyes were resting on the group of girls clad all in black and sipping on their turnip soup.

“Rhaegar will convince Royce.”

“Royce is a stubborn man, though,” Aemon pointed out.

Dany had never spoken to Yohn Royce, but she had seen him a handful of times when she had attended court in company of Jon Arryn.

He was a giant of a man and showed little resemblance to his elegant daughter. She also recalled his booming voice and his straightforward manner.

“Let’s hope Royce changes his mind,” Dany said thoughtfully and leaned on the table as she continued to observe the Dornish. Oberyn Martell had glanced over to them more than once, his dark eyes seeking Aemon like a bull a crimson cloth. “Well, I hope Lord Royce changes his mind in the future.”

“Dany,” Aemon whispered into her ear. “Something happened. Aegon left.”

“Mayhaps you should go to him,” she suggested. “To comfort him.”

Aemon nodded his head in understanding and squeezed her hand before leaving her to her own thoughts.

Not long after, Rhaenys came to keep her company, who must have seen that her brother Aemon had left the hall.

“I am surprised your husband’s family decided to come,” Dany said when Rhaenys sat down on the cushioned seat beside her. Unlike other days, her hair was braided and devoid of the rubies she liked to weave into her dark locks. “I thought Mace Tyrell swore that he would never set a foot in the same room as your Uncle.”

Rhaenys leaned closer to whisper her answer in Dany’s ear. “I doubt Mace Tyrell foresaw that such a sad occasion would bring us together.”

Dany’s stomach made a summersault when she noticed how sad Rhaenys’ looked. Gently, she took her arm and jerked her head at the Dornish. She felt the sudden need to distract Rhaenys from her sadness. “You ought to introduce us.”

Rhaenys gave her a surprised look, but didn’t refuse her request.

“Very well,” she said and led Dany into the “Viper’s Lair” as Aemon would have probably called it if he was here.

If Prince Oberyn was surprised or displeased by her presence it didn’t show on his face. He smiled even a little, which only added to his handsome looks. His sister the Queen had also been beautiful, but in a different way. Unlike her brother, she had been graced with softer features and her hair had been smooth and shiny. Yet, they shared the same dark eyes, black as the walls of Dragonstone.

“If that isn’t another Princess?” Prince Oberyn asked and lifted his cup. He sounded drunk. “Two Princess…two beauties.”

“Stop it, Uncle,” Rhaenys chided and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. “Tis is not the occasion for such games.”

“You are always so serious, Rhae,” Princess Arianne huffed. “Have the Tyrells already made you one of them?”

“Tis is a funeral,” Rhaenys said. “What do you want me to do, cousin? To put on my dancing shoes?”

“That is what we would do in Dorne,” Princess Arianne said and brought the spoon to her lips. “Or have you already forgotten our traditions?”

“I have not forgotten,” Rhaenys said with a nod of her head and sat down between Lady Ellaria Sand and Lady Nym. “And the Tyrells are not as bad as you are trying to paint them.”

“Your husband is quite pretty,” Arianne complimented. “But the rest of his family are bootlickers. If we took all the hot air Lord Pufffish is producing daily, we would have no need of fires to keep us warm.”

“Arianne,” Rhaenys said disapprovingly and pointed at Dany. “I brought Daenerys here to meet you and you are embarrassing me.”

“Forgive me for trying to corrupt your niece, Princess Daenerys. In truth, I was just trying to lift our spirits. I admit, I didn’t know my Aunt as well as you lot, but I doubt she would have wanted us to weep and die of boredom,” said Princess Arianne and waved her hand at Dany. “ What do you think about all this, sweet Princess?”

“I didn’t know the Queen very well, but I agree…I do not think she would have wanted us to be sad,” Dany answered diplomatically. “So, you really dance at funerals?”

“We do,” Lady Ellaria Sand confirmed as she tried her best to keep one of her youngest daughters from pulling off her earrings and another girl from spilling her soup unto Prince Quentyn’s lap. “We have special songs for this occasion as well. Why do you ask?”

“I do not know much about funerals,” Dany said in return and started to fumble with the hem of her dress. “But your customs are really interesting.”

“Is that so?” asked Prince Oberyn. His attire was as black as his eyes. Black silk, as sinful as a courtesan’s soft fingers. “Well, if you are interested you ought to come to Dorne. Rhaenys can show you around.”

Rhaenys sighed. “I would love to visit Dorne, but I can’t go there without Willas.”

“As if Olenna Tyrell would allow her grandson to go to Dorne,” Prince Oberyn said sarcastically. It was the first time Dany noticed a hint of anger in his voice. “What do you say, sweet Princess?”

“Nothing,” Dany replied awkwardly. She wasn’t used to such forward offers. “Because I can’t go anywhere without the King’s approval.”

Prince Oberyn said nothing and jerked his head at Prince Quentyn, who seemed occupied with the girl seated beside him. Her name was Lady Gwyneth Yronwood, a girl that was a bit younger than Dany.

“You could just marry Quentyn. You would be the second Daenerys to marry a Dornish Prince.”

Dany’s cheeks heated up when she realized what he had said.

She shook her head.

“I am already pledged.”

At this point, Rhaenys was openly glaring at her Uncle, but he blatantly ignored her.

“I was pledged too…numerous times,” Prince Oberyn said nonchalantly. “Once to no other than the beautiful Cersei Lannister. Oh, how I would…,” he was about to continue, but Lady Ellaria’s sharp look silenced him at once.

“What my Uncle is trying to say is that not all betrothals are set in stone,” Princess Arianne said and pointed at Viserys, who was now speaking to Lady Ysilla Royce. “I was nearly betrothed to your brother, but nothing came of it. Not that I am insulted…I shall soon be wed.”

There was a hint of derision in her voice and Rhaenys surprised look was just as confusing to Dany.

“I didn’t know!” Rhaenys said and gave her cousin a stunned look. “Who is it?”

“I cannot tell,” Princess Arianne said and smiled tensely. “But you will hear about it soon enough.”

“One of my brother’s plots,” Prince Oberyn said unhappily. “But once we have the King’s approval we are going to celebrate a grand wedding. You ought to attend as well, sweet Princess. It will grander than any feast you have ever attended in Highgarden. Quentyn and Arianne would be pleased to have you there.”

Arianne furrowed her brows.

“Who says Quentyn is invited?”

Quentyn Martell furrowed his brows in the same manner, but he was plainer in looks than his sister. The Yronwood girl didn’t seem to mind, though. She was openly glaring at Princess Arianne.

“Who says I ever intended to come?” asked Quentyn Martell. “I shall return to Yronwood, dear sister, and I never liked the Storm…,” he was about to continue, but fell silent when he realized what he had said.

“You will go, Quent,” Prince Oberyn said. “Your father will make sure of it.”

Quentyn Martell said nothing and Dany remained silent. She had nothing to add.

She felt that she had satisfied her curiosity, though the mention of the Stormlands sent the wheels in her head turning.

“You are not here, are you, sister?” her brother’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Dany bit her lips as she lifted her head. She found Viserys’ lilac eyes watching her as he leaned over the cyvasse board.

“I am here,” she insisted and shifted her attention back to the game. “I…,” she was about to continue and wrinkled her brows when she noticed that she had forgotten what she had wanted to do.

“You thoughts are somewhere else,” Rhaegar finished for her. He was seated beside the window, one leg thrown over the other and his black cloak pooling on the ground. His silver hair was still braided, but a handful of strands had escaped their braid and were now falling into his face. He looked as if he had aged by a decade. Grief, was the reason and perhaps regrets. Dany couldn’t say, but she knew that her brother was upset by the way he was leaning his arm against his balled fist and the way he was twitching his other hand in a steady rhythm. “With the Dornish perhaps?”

“I saw you in their company,” Viserys said and started to tap his finger on the table. “Where they trying to charm you with their poison?”

Dany didn’t like the sound of that.

“You are just angry that Princess Arianne didn’t save her maidenhead for you, dear brother. I liked them…they are _different_.”

Viserys eyes narrowed in displeasure and he blew his silver hair out of his face. It was a clear sign that she had hit a wound point.

“What would you know about such matters, anyway?”

“I know enough,” Dany insisted and noticed that Rhaegar was watching her. “Mother told me everything I need to know.”

That was a lie, but she doubted Viserys or Rhaegar would ever speak with her mother about such delicate matters.

“Of course,” Rhaegar said, but his face remained unreadable as ever. “And Daenerys got you there Viserys. It was your pride that led to the broken betrothal.”

“If you want to blame someone then blame the Darkstar. He threatened my life,” Viserys huffed and started to put the pieces back into the box next to him. “Besides, what does it matter now? I have already made my wishes known to you in this matter, dear brother.”

“And I told you that you need to have patience,” Rhaegar replied. “Give Royce a bit of time to consider the situation thoroughly.”

“And I am not getting younger,” Viserys complained as he closed the box. “Besides, I am a Prince.”

“And Harry might one day be the future Lord of the Vale,” Dany pointed out. “And it looks as if Princess Arianne will soon be wed. Prince Quentyn mentioned something about the Stormlands…,” Dany trailed off when Rhaegar’s dark eyes met hers.

“She was referring to Renly Baratheon,” Rhaegar said.

“Renly?” Dany asked in utter disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Why is that so strange?” Viserys asked and leaned back in his chair. ”Renly is the heir to the Stormlands.”

“He is….,” Dany said and had to suppress a chuckle. “They say that Renly doesn’t like women.”

“Oh,” Viserys said, his eyes growing wide. Then, he shook his head in disbelief. “I never noticed.”

“Of course not,” Dany said. “You spend too much time chasing Lady Ysilla’s skirt.”

Even Rhaegar chuckled. “Daenerys is not wrong.”

“You are one to talk!” Viserys snapped and rose to his feet. Arriving at the door, he turned to look at them and dipped his head. “I think I am done for today. I need my dire rest.”

When the door had closed behind her brother, Dany rose from her seat, her bare feet touching the soft carpet. She wore stockings, but had discarded her slippers in the corner of the room.

She felt a little cold, but the sizzling brazier kept her warm enough as she joined Rhaegar. The painted windows were arched, red and covered with black dragons.

“Your mind is also elsewhere brother, isn’t it?”

Rhaegar smiled sadly and slung his hand around her shoulder.

“I am not well,” he admitted. “And my mind is ever restless.”

“Why?” Dany asked and searched his face, but he refused to look at her. “Because of the Queen?”

“Not Elia,” Rhaegar said and rubbed his brow with the back of his hand. “I had strange dreams …Dreams I haven’t had for years.”

“What kind of dreams?” Dany asked without hesitation. “You don’t look as if enjoyed them.”

“No,” Rhaegar said vaguely and dropped his hand. “Tell me, sister. Where the Dornish kind to you?”

“Very,” Dany said. She tried to hide her amusement. “They even offered me to wed Prince Quentyn, but I think Prince Oberyn was just teasing me.”

Rhaegar nodded his head. “That wouldn’t surprise me in the least. He has that habit.”

“He hates you, you know,” Dany added hesitatingly. “Prince Oberyn.”

A hint of a smile crossed over her brother’s lips.

“Of course, he does.”

“You are not upset?” Dany asked her brother and searched his face. “Or just worried for Aemon and Lady Lyanna?”

“There is nothing to be upset about, sister,” he said and leaned closer. “If someone treated you like I had treated Elia I would hate him too. And I am not worried, because I know one thing…Prince Oberyn would rather kill me than harm a woman or a child. He is the kind of man who think himself above such bloody deeds.”

Dany was even more confused by this answer.

“You are the King!” she said and frowned. “He has no right!”

“A King has many enemies, Dany,” Rhaegar said with a heavy sigh and placed a kiss on her brow. “That is a fact I had to accept when I took the crown. And you should go to bed. It is getting late.”

Dany knew that was her brother’s way of saying that the discussion was at an end.

“Goodnight, then,” she said and left. Ser Arthur waited beside the door and smiled when he saw her. He had silver hair and violet eyes, but was not of Valyrian blood. Even so, it often felt as if Ser Arthur and Rhaegar were more than just friends. They were brothers, even though they didn’t share the same blood.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” he offered, but Dany shook her head. “I know my way, Ser Arthur.”

“Very well,” Ser Arthur said and smiled. “But no sneaking around.”

“I know,” she replied and did exactly what Ser Arthur had just forbade her to do: sneaking across deserted halls and dimly-lit corridors.

After climbing two stairs, she finally reached her destination and was relieved when she saw the sheen of light visible beneath the door.

She knocked and quickly hid behind the large stone pillar when one of the guardsmen came around the corridor.

Aemon waved his hand at the guardsman after he had poked his head out of the door. It was not the first time they had done this and he knew that she was there, hiding behind the pillar.

Dany didn’t know why, but there was something exciting about this, her heart racing as if it was going to burst.

When the guardsman was gone, Dany slipped inside the chamber, her heart skipping a beat when her nephew closed the door behind them.

“You did well,” Aemon praised her and laughed when he noticed her labored breathing. “You have never been faster, though we ought to be careful. Tis is not proper.”

“Tis not proper,” Dany imitated him and sat down on the cushioned canopy that was placed along the wall. “You sound almost like my mother.”

Aemon huffed and sat down across her, his legs crossed and his boots placed beside his bed. He wore only his breeches and a white tunic. His hair was sticking in all directions, because her nephew had the habit of brushing it out of his face.

“Grandmother would pull off my ears if she knew about this,” Aemon said and leaned forward. He was smiling, his warm breath brushing over her cheek. “You know that.”

“She doesn’t have known,” Dany said and bit her lip, before pressing her brow against his. “Tell me, did you ever go back to the girl?”

Aemon laughed and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her thoroughly while he cradled her face between his hands.

She was half-seated in his lap when she noticed how flushed his cheeks were.

His eyes were blown and his lips slightly swollen as he squirmed beneath her.

“Could you move…this is rather unpleasant,” he asked of her and sounded a little flustered. Dany chuckled when she noticed the reason for his discomfort. “Or better said…too pleasant.”

Yet, Dany didn’t make any attempt to move. She liked this position.

“We could make it even more pleasant,” she said and graced him with a brazen smile. “Why wait? We are going to be wed anyway.”

Aemon’s dark eyebrows rose to the top of his head. Yet, he made no attempt to remove her from his lap, one hand now resting on her shoulder and the other on her waist.

“And grandmother would kill me.”

“Mother doesn’t have to know,” Daenerys said sharply. “And there will be no bedding on my wedding day and nor will I allow one of these Maesters to inspect me down there.”

Aemon’s eyes widened, but he leaned closer to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

“It is not just that. You are only ten and three…,” he tried to explain, but Dany knew where he wanted to go with this before the full sentence had left his mouth.

Dany smiled as she cradled his face between her hands. “There is Moon Tea.”

“You know how to make Moon Tea?”

“I do,” Dany confirmed and pressed her brow against his. “Another wonderful skill I learned in the Reach.”

“Are you sure?” Aemon asked her again, his voice laced with insecurity. “I certainly don’t mind.”

“Very sure,” Dany confirmed. “I respect my mother, but it is for me to decide when I want to do this.”

Aemon shrugged his shoulders, his right-hand dancing over her shoulder blade.

A tingling feeling washed over her body all the way between her legs.

She smiled again and started to untie the bindings of her dress.

When she was done, she threw the garment over her shoulder and was left in her shift, smallclothes and stockings.

Aemon simply stared back at her, as if he had been hit by thunder.

Dany was nervous. Only when she was concentrating on her breathing did she grow calmer, but when Aemon didn’t make any attempt to move, she decided to speak up.

“Are you going to undress?”

Her blunt question was all that was needed to break the spell.

“Oh, yes!” Aemon said and quickly pulled off his tunic, before doing the same with his breeches. “I forgot.”

Dany suppressed a laugh, so flustered her nephew had looked in that moment.

When he was done, he turned back and covered his groin with his hand.

“Would you _perhaps_ return the favour?”

Dany nodded her head and pulled off her shift, leaving her in her smallclothes and stockings. She didn’t look at her nephew as she pulled down her smallclothes and then her stockings, leaving them on a heap on the ground.

“It is cold,” Aemon said suddenly and wetted his lips. “A warm bath would be nice.”

Dany nodded her head. “I have never heard that you can do this in a bath. _Interesting_.”

Aemon chuckled nervously.

Then, he swallowed thickly and eyed her breasts.

“You can touch them,” she offered, wondering how long he would remain standing there like this.

“Are you sure?” Aemon asked again.

“I am sure,” Dany confirmed again and dropped her hands to her side. “But maybe we should do this in a bed.”

“Of course!” Aemon said and jerked his head at his bed. It was in complete disorder, the bedding crumpled and his cloak thrown over the side. “It is just…you can see for yourself.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him and hopped into the bed. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing,” he replied in a flustered tone and followed after her. “Nothing.”

Dany laughed and threw his cloak out of the bed. It was not very big, only meant for a young boy.

Then, she sat down in front of him and allowed him to take a proper look at her.

He seemed pleased, for he was biting his lips like a wolf.

“You said you wanted to touch me,” she reminded him. ”Or are you not satisfied?”

He looked as if she had smacked him over the head.

“Of course,” he whispered and lifted his hand, to touch her breasts. Dany wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or to gasp, but it was more pleasant than she had imagined. When, he dropped his hand a moment later she lifted her gaze once more, though her eyes were always darting downwards, where his hand was still shielding him from her view.

“Kissing might help,” she offered. “And it is pleasant.”

Aemon exhaled deeply and opened his hands to her.

“Come here, then.”

She chuckled and climbed back into his lap. Another laugh escaped her when he was starting to squirm beneath her.

The warmth only intensified that tingling feeling between her legs.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

Aemon frowned. “Well, not all of it, but I technically know what to do.”

“Do you?” Dany asked skeptically. “Well, I know where you have to put it, but little else.”

“Well, it will hurt if you are not…ready,” he explained in return.

“Ready?” Dany asked. “And how do we accomplish that?”

“Kissing you might work,” Aemon offered and pulled her closer. “Only if you don’t mind.”

She gave him a serious nod and leaned closer. “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he murmured in reply, before he kissed her against, her lips parting easily beneath his.

Warmth spread over her body as she returned his kiss, her hand pulling on his hair.

He didn’t seem to mind, his right hand brushing down her arm and coming to rest between her legs.

With the other hand he touched breast, first softly, and then a little harder.

Soon, small sounds were escaping her mouth.

She also felt him there, beneath her. Hard like iron.

She wondered how he would fit. The thought made her recoil and she used the moment to gasp for air.

“Are you well?” Aemon asked, his breathing labored.

“I think that is enough…I mean. Now we should do the real thing.”

Aemon swallowed thickly. “It is going to hurt. That is what the girl told me.”

“I am well aware of that,” Dany replied breathlessly. “Let’s do it. Now or never.”

Aemon looked as if he wanted to object, but then he pulled her closer.

“You have to move up,” Aemon instructed her as he touched her waist with one hand and positioned himself where he needed to be with the other. “A little…slow.”

“Slow,” he said and gasped hotly as his head fell back. “Fuck!”

Within the blink of a moment, Dany had shifted forward, a sharp pain causing her to let out a whine.

She was torn between kissing and smacking him.

“Does it hurt?” Aemon asked at once.

“It hurts,” she said and bit her lips. “A little.”

He frowned and touched her shoulder. “I told you.”

“Shut up!” she snapped and gasped in pain. “Are you sure you did this properly?”

“I think so,” he breathed out with much effort. He was very tense. “But you are too tight.”

“And you are too big!” she griped and would have probably found more words to curse him, when he suddenly leaned forward to press his lips against hers. “Ah…slow!”

Dany returned the kiss, trying to distract herself.

All the while, she was trying to move. Barely, at first before one of his hands came to rest on her waist, showing her how to move.

Her pain ebbed away a little, but it was still there.

Aemon seemed to take much more pleasure from this, soft groans leaving his mouth and his eyes tightly shut.

Dany kissed him once more, soft and sweet. Then, she moved a little faster, but his head suddenly dropped to her shoulder and a low groan escaped his lips.

She felt something warm between her legs, a feeling that left her both dissatisfied and oddly happy.

He shuddered a little and then he opened his dark eyes.

He looked slightly embarrassed as his fingers curled in the hair at her neck.

“That was rather short.”

Dany didn’t know why, but she had the feeling that this was normal, like the pain she had experienced.

“And painful,” she said and slid off him ever slowly. “But I suppose that goes away in time?”

“I suppose,” Aemon replied and gathered the bedding around his waist. “I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

Dany chuckled and allowed herself to fall back unto the bed. “You are really a fool…This wasn’t a test.”

Aemon nodded his head and lay down beside her. “I suppose this takes practice. More importantly, is there any chance we can try this again?”

Dany frowned at the ceiling, pretending to ponder over his request.

“I think so, but first I need to get some Moon Tea.”

“Drinking Moon Tea all of the time won’t work, though,” Aemon pointed out. “It is not good or so I heard.”

“There are other ways,” Dany pointed out. “Some of which demand more practice than you have…Well, that is what Maegaery said. And practice we shall have.”

“Aye,” Aemon agreed. It was a rustling sound filled with warmth. “As I said…I would like to try again.”

Dany laughed too and crossed her arms behind her back, her mind straying back to Aegon. A hint of shame washed over her in that moment. Perhaps the gods were now frowning upon them for doing this on a day of sadness, but she didn’t care. Life was too short for regrets.

Even so, she wanted to hear about Aegon.

“So,” she said hesitatingly and searched his face. “How is Aegon?”

Aemon shrugged his shoulders. “We spoke a lot…about his mother and my mother. It is complicated.”

Dany knew that he was not willing to give her the details.

“Is it a secret?”

Aemon nodded his head in confirmation. “I gave a promise.”

Dany was slightly disappointed, but she had to accept that. Aegon was his brother and she would do the same for Viserys. “I suppose I cannot force you to break such an important promise.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the thing with Dany x Jon was akward, but they are both virgins. I don't know if it was with other people, but I have yet to meet a person who told me that their first time was particularly pleasant or at least not in some way awkward. I just tried to keep it realistic.
> 
> As for dancing on funerals. This I think is common in some cultures. I only know of the Ancient Egyptians. They danced while the corpse of the person was carried through the grave, playing scenes from the Book of the Death or something like that. I know that is pretty strange, but Dornish culture reminds of the Ancient Egyptians. Women had a pretty good life in their times. They could hold property, divorce their husbands and it was not uncommon that normal people married for love. Sexuality was pretty open and polygamy and incest happened, though the brother and sister stuff was usually reserved for nobility. Brother and sister were actually terms for lovers in Ancient Egypt and thus historians thought they all fucked their sisters, though the Kings really did that. Well, they usually also married several other women who were not blood-related to them, which balances it out. They also had a really different view on children than other cultures. Children were loved and people who didn't have children would usually adopt since not having a child to do your funeral rites was important. Bastards didn't really exist in their culture either, since marriage was more of a contract. There was not even a marriage ceremony. The woman usually just moved into the husband's home. I also admire their love for nature and how their gods are a reflection of their life. Like the Nile was the God Hapi or Re was the sun. Well, they also have the best creation story: A god whose name I cannot pronounce wanked the world into existence.
> 
> Well, enough of the history lesson. People might think I hate the Dornish, but I don't. I just dislike some fans who have been pestering me in the past. The Dornish are not the villians of this story.


	23. Aemon

The torchlight parted the shadows before him, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust hovering in the air. As he descended further down the steps he saw the shadows lengthen and felt a cool breeze of air washing over him. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his heartbeat sped up and he swept his gaze over the large cavernous room harboring a good hundred dragon skulls.

As he passed, he saw Balerion the Dread and further down Vhagar, Queen Visenya’s famous mount. There were many more, some heads taller than elephants and others not bigger than a horse. The sight of the smallest dragons, made him always sad, but there was no reason ‘to cry over spilled milk’ as his grandmother would say. The dragons were gone and all that was left of their legacy were the three precious eggs his father had gifted him and his siblings. He had been beyond himself with happiness at first, but now he was beginning to realize that this was just another hopeless dream.

If Aegon the Unlikely hadn’t been able to hatch dragon eggs, why should Aemon and his siblings be able to do it?

His father may believe in the prophecy of the woodswitch, but House Targaryen shouldn’t build its future on fruitless dreams.

_Still_, he thought as he touched the small skull, not bigger than a dog_. I would love to have someone like you. You wouldn’t even have to carry me on your back. Just looking at you, as you are soaring through the sky would be reward enough for me._

There was no answer, only silence. This place here felt like a graveyard.

Aemon smiled once more and made his way up the steps. There, he pushed the door open and stepped into the next chamber, where he found more dragon skulls and his brother Aegon.

As a young boy, this had been his favorite hiding place. Aemon too, had come here often to explore the crypts and numerous tunnels spreading beneath the Red Keep. Harry and Robb had often accompanied him, but now felt that he needed to speak alone with his brother.

Aegon and he hadn’t spoken a word since they had burned his mother in a lavish ceremony before the Sept of Baelor. Aemon had also been the only of Lady Lyanna’s children that had attended the ceremony and had received glowering looks by the Dornish envoy, especially Oberyn Martell, but Aemon couldn’t care less about them. He came here for his brother, not for them.

“Egg!” he called out to his brother. “Aegon.”

Hearing his full name, Aegon finally turned around. His face looked sharper now, but perhaps it were only the shadows that were giving him such a weather-worn look.

“Did father send you?” Aegon asked in a strained voice. “I just felt not like eating anything.”

Aemon could understand that, but it was a tradition and most had noticed his absence.

Still, he doubted his father would hold it against Aegon.

“I didn’t eat anything either,” Aemon agreed and placed the torch in one of the silver scones lining the wall. Then, he pulled off his cloak and sat down beside his brother, who had spread his own cloak over the dusty floor. It was one of his riding cloaks, which meant he must have changed into simpler clothing. “And I think anybody notices your absence. The lords and ladies are already crawling around father, probably hoping that he is going to marry one of the maiden daughters.”

“He will wed your mother,” Aegon said without hesitation. “And make her his Queen.”

There was no question about that. Rhaenys had said the same. Yet, he had never asked Aegon’s opinion on this matter.

“Does that anger you?” Aemon asked. While Aegon had never expressed any outright dislike for his mother, they never had a particularly close relationship either. “Do you hold it against father?”

“I could never dislike father,” Aegon said and lifted his purple gaze. “But it is not easy for me to see your mother take my mother’s place.”

“That is understandable,” Aemon said and nodded his head in understanding. “And I doubt my mother feels very happy right now. She never wanted to steal your mother’s position, she only wanted to be with father and paid the price for it, a life in the shadows and hidden away at Dragonstone. Your mother never loved me and I don’t blame her for it, but I am glad that my mother won’t have to hide away anymore. Do you understand?”

“No,” Aegon said, a hint of a smile crossing over his lips. “I understand. It is just…it feels as if I have to change now. My mother told me I need to grow up.”

“And you feel overwhelmed by that promise?” Aemon asked. “Isn’t that so?”

“Of course,” Aegon said. “I promised to be a good King.”

“And you will be a good King,” Aemon assured him and patted his shoulder. “But Father is not even forty and in good health. There is no reason for you to change from one day to the other. I think your mother simply wanted to remind you of your duties before she left this world.”

“I suppose,” Aegon replied and exhaled deeply, his hand brushing over the pale egg flecked with gold nestled in his lap. When he noticed Aemon’s staring, he chuckled. “I thought bringing it here might help, but nothing has happened so far.”

“Gaemon has tried numerous things. Once he sat on it all day, once he wrapped it in a blanket and carried it around for a whole week and last time he wanted to throw it into the hearth, but mother caught him before harm could come to it. Do you know what Dany suggested? It was the most interesting idea of them all.”

“What?” Aegon asked, his voice laced with sudden curiosity. “What did she suggest?”

“To drop them in one of the volcanos on Dragonstone.”

“A very interesting idea,” Aegon agreed. “At least, it doesn’t involve burning down Summerhall again.”

“A good thing,” Aemon said and leaned back on the balls of his hands. “I do not want to lose my future home before I get to live there.”

“Father should take your mother there,” Aegon suggested. “It looks beautiful.”

“Perhaps he will,” Aemon said. “But it will take effort to convince my mother. As I said before…she has become quite comfortable in her role as second wife. She never expected to be Queen.”

“Grandmother prepared her,” Aegon assured Aemon. “And I shall give my approval if it helps to convince her.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Egg,” Aemon pointed out. “It has to do with the past. My Uncle Eddard has never forgiven her and I think makes her feel the need to punish herself.”

Aegon’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that your mother felt so much guilt about the past.”

“She hides it well,” Aemon added sadly. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

“Well, the fact is that everything will change now,” Aegon pointed out and blew his silver hair out of his face. “I will be Prince of Dragonstone in a year from now and once you are of age you will be Prince of Summerhall. Viserys will be wed if he gets his will, Robb and Harry will go home and then we will have to act like grown-ups…just as mother asked of me.”

This surprised Aemon. He had known that Robb would leave them soon, but he hadn’t known about Harry.

“Father intends to send Harry home?”

“Aye,” Aegon confirmed. “I think it is part of some arrangement he made with Lord Arryn.”

“Well, Jon Arryn is getting old. I doubt he wants another war, especially when you are betrothed to Stannis’ daughter. Father also assured him that Renly would be heir to Storm’s End.”

“Renly is heir to Storm’s End, but it is not unlikely that that Shireen’s children will continue the Baratheon line. Renly Baratheon…there are rumors about him.”

“What rumors?”

“They say he and Loras Tyrell….well,” Aegon said and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. “They say they are lovers and that both wanted to join the Kingsguard.”

“The Lords of the Stormlands won’t allow that,” Aemon said quickly and shook his head in disbelief. “And neither will Lord Stannis. I could see him drag Renly to his marriage bed.”

“Possible,” Aegon said. “Perhaps my cousin will be able to get him into her bed.”

“Your cousin?” Aemon asked in confusion. “But I thought Arianne wanted to be Princess of Dorne. Renly would expect his children to be Baratheons.”

“Uncle Doran wants the match,” Aegon explained and played with his egg. “I suppose Quentyn’s children will be the heirs and he will be wed to the Yronwood girl.”

“Then, there might be a war looming in the future,” Aemon pointed out. He had come here to speak about Aegon’s grief, but everything they were talking about led them back to politics. “If not between Arianne and Quentyn, then between their children.”

“A civil war I will avert at all costs,” Aegon said. “That I am half Dornish should help. Well, I also think you shouldn’t underestimate my Uncle Doran. He is no man of many words, but he usually gets what he wants. And knowing my cousin Arianne she might even show understanding for Lord Renly’s inclinations. My cousin is a very special person.”

Aemon hadn’t even realized that possibility.

“Just like my mother,” Aemon pointed out. “People like that can bring both suffering and happiness upon others, but I think your cousin will prove a blessing.”

Aegon gave him a thankful smile. “Arianne is a good person. She would like you.”

Aemon gave him another disbelieving look.

“Are you sure about that? Most of your relatives don’t like me.”

“Well, Arianne is not like most of my relatives. She and my Uncle Doran have very different views of the world.”

Aemon didn’t ask further, but was definitely curious. He had read so much about Dorne and its people, but their dislike for his mother had always made him fearful of travelling there.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to find a way to live together without petty quarrels.

Yet, it was a treacherous path that lay ahead of them, but that didn’t make it any less worth to try their best.

…


	24. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

“You are back so soon,” Lyanna mumbled against Rhaegar’s lips, as he continued to pull up her skirt after he had pushed her back into her chamber. She hadn’t expected his return. It was a surprise. “Why is that?”

Rhaegar said nothing and simply pushed her unto the bed. Lyanna said nothing either. When he was like this it was best not to complain, because usually it was Lyanna who had to convince him to enjoy each other.

She brushed her guilt away and returned his kiss eagerly. As they continued, her fingers pulled on the buttons of his doublet, tugging on them until she had ridden him of the pesky garment. When she moved to his tunic, he stopped her and pulled the tunic off himself. Lyanna giggled and began to remove her own clothing.

Within the blink of a moment, she had pulled off her slippers and Rhaegar was soon helping her with the bindings of her dress, though he proved clumsier than expected. It took him a while before he was able to pull off her stockings and smallclothes.

When he was finally done, Lyanna allowed her dress to pool on the ground and quickly stepped back into Rhaegar’s arms, who picked her up and carried her to the bed.

There, he dropped her. She landed unceremoniously and giggled as her dark curls spilled into her face, clouding her view momentarily. Rhaegar waited until she had brushed her hair behind her shoulders and graced her with one of his melancholic smiles.

_He is still grieving_, Lyanna thought and leaned forward to touch his shoulder. _Rhaegar might have loved the Queen in a different manner, but he had still loved her._

“Stop looking at me like that,” Rhaegar said quietly and knelt down before her, spreading her legs apart. It was like an old dance, but it had been nearly a moon that they had last lain together. “It makes me sad.”

Lyanna said nothing and Rhaegar touched her cheek. His touch made her shudder with anticipation, but even so there was a strange sadness to his actions.

“Stay that way,” he told her and leaned down to kiss her breast, first softly and then harder. Lyanna grabbed his hair and pulled hard. She knew that he liked that and he knew what he liked. Carefully, he kissed her between her legs, feasting like a dragon on a piece of roasted meat.

“Rhaegar!” Lyanna gasped and pulled a bit harder. _The Kiss of the Dragon_, she had dubbed it a long time ago and Rhaegar had laughed, saying that he wished he was really a dragon. Lyanna liked the idea too. How easy their life would be if they had a real dragon. None of these pestering lords would bother them, but that was not so. All Rhaegar’s children had were three eggs, three stone eggs that will probably never hatch, though Rhaegar was hoping otherwise.

A whimper escaped her suddenly, warmth spreading between her legs. When her body had stopped trembling, she noticed that Rhaegar was watching her, his dark eyes piercing into hers. They looked like molten coals and Lyanna knew what he wanted from her.

“Lay back down,” she ordered and climbed from the bed to make space for him. “Please.”

Rhaegar did as she had asked of him and Lyanna pressed her hand against his chest.

She had to smile. To half the realm she was the King’s whore, but there was no man in the Seven Kingdoms who could command the King like this.

A smile spread over her lips as she climbed atop him, fondling them and filling her with a pleasant warmth that spread all the way down to her woman’s place.

He said nothing, before kissed her and soon they were finding back to their od rhythm. Lyanna put her knees on either side of him, took him in hand and sank down on him, a soft sign escaping her lips.

“Stop being so lazy!” she chided him and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “You are no true dragon!”

Her voice had hitched as she had spoken and grabbed his shoulder tightly. Rhaegar kissed her fiercely as she his hand patted her, his fingernails digging deep into her skin.

She closed her eyes and allowed the feeling to wash over her. Slowly, the tension build, then faster. She had taken a ride in the morning, but this felt even better.

She tightened her grip and moaned softly against his neck, her fingers pulling on his hair and his hand pulling on her back as he suddenly went rigid and boneless in her arms, taking her down with him.

Both of them fell back into her sheets, their breathing ragged. Lyanna watched Rhaegar with a frown, for he was still keeping his silence.

He had said nothing since his sudden return from King’s Landing.

He had also said nothing about the funeral. She understood why, but it bothered her.

“How is Aemon? How are Rhaenys and Aegon?”

“Well,” Rhaegar replied slowly and played with the lock of her hair. “I don’t…,” he trailed off.

“Something’s bothering you,” she remarked and clutched his face between her hands. “Tell me about it.”

He said nothing, but simply stared back at her. She could read the pain in his eyes.

“She forgave me…,” he stuttered and buried his head between her neck and shoulder. “I never thought.”

Lyanna was not as surprised as Rhaegar. People often forgave others when they were dying. It made her also wonder if Ned would ever forgive her…

He did not cry, but remained silent, his warm mouth focused on her shoulder while her hand brushed through his silver locks. In that moment she felt more like a mother tending to her babe than a grown woman.

“That is good, isn’t it?” she asked after a moment of silence had passed between them. She had feared this conversation more than once, but now she didn’t want to hide away anymore. “And what will happen now?”

Lyanna knew it, but she _needed_ to hear it from Rhaegar’s lips.

“We will be wed,” he whispered and gave her the answer she had feared and at the same time hoped for. “And you shall be my Queen.”

“And you think your Queen’s kin will like that?” she asked.

“No,” Rhaegar replied and kissed her cheek. “But I won’t let my children be legitimized bastards when I can make them trueborn. It is that simple.”

Lyanna knew all that, but she feared the idea of being Queen.

She had never wanted it.

“They will hate me,” she told him and was about to move away, but Rhaegar grabbed her arm to pull her backwards, forcing her to look at him. “They won’t. Not when they want to earn my ire. Believe me…nobody wants that.”

The iron tone in his voice told her that he was very serious about this and helped to ease her fears.

“I don’t want a crowing,” she replied. “It is unseemly.

“It is necessary,” Rhaegar insisted. “And I shall have all _our _children there. It would be best to invite _everyone_…,” he was about to continue, but Lyanna cut him off.

“Then you can crown yourself.”

“Lyanna…,” Rhaegar sighed.

“No,” she said firmly. “I say it again. It would be unseemly. A simple crowning or no crowning at all.”

Rhaegar huffed in frustration and gave in.

“As you wish, my lady love.”

Lyanna was pleased and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I knew that I would be able to convince you.”

…


	25. Benjen

**Benjen**

The bird snapped down faster than a whip, its sharp beak biting into the mouse Prince Gaemon had freed on the ground. A handful more shrieks followed, before the animal was gone and the bird swallowed it hair and bones. It was a grizzly sight, but his niece was smiling proudly as if she had actually been able to see his performance.

“Storm,” his niece called out to the bird, who immediately lifted his head, the bird’s eyes searching her. Come here.”

At once, the bird took flight and soared into the air to land unto her outstretched hand.

Benjen didn’t know much about hawking, but not even his huntsman had so much control over his dogs.

“Well done,” the girl praised the bird and brushed her hand over his head. The bird seemed pleased about this and brushed his head against her hand. “Well, done.”

Then, her niece addressed Benjen, turning her head a little to the side, her pale eyes empty and distant like a cloudy sky. Safe for her full lips and straight nose, she was all Lyanna, long-faced and dark-haired.

“What do you think, Uncle?”

Yet, there was something different about her character. She had her mother’s outspoken tongue, but lacked Lya’s restlessness. There was something otherworldly calm about her.

“An impressive bird,” Benjen said with a smile and leaned closer to squeeze her hand. “You trained him well.”

“Oh, I didn’t train him,” Alysanne told him and shook her head, her dark locks spilling into her face. “Roger did. He just taught me everything I know.”

“How long has the bird been in your possession?” Robb asked curiously. “As my Uncle said…he is rather well trained.”

“Not longer than two moons,” Lyanna added and put her feet back on the ground. The sight of her grimace when the mouse had been freed had amused Benjen mightily. His sister was one of the bravest people he knew, but she could never stand mice. Just hearing their squeaking sounds made his sister’s skin crawl. “Alysanne is just very gifted and Roger did good work in training her.”

“Speaking of Roger,” Alysanne chirped. “I should bring Storm back to his caretaker.”

Lyanna could barely open her mouth before Gaemon had jumped to his feet and had scrambled up the stairs.

“I shall get Mary!” he had exclaimed before he was gone. Not long after a young girl came and took Alysanne’s arm, leading her up the stairs. She couldn’t be older than ten and five and was at least a head taller than Alysanne.

“Mary,” Benjen said and shifted his attention back to his sister. She frowned, her face growing longer with as she furrowed her brows. ”Isn’t that girl a bit too old to attend to Alysanne?”

“She isn’t her companion,” Lyanna informed him. “She is her maid and Roger’s older sister.”

“The caretaker of the bird?” Benjen asked and nodded his head in understanding. “Well, she seems quite taken with the bird.”

“Your words in gods ears,” Lyanna sighed and leaned forward, her hand brushing over her belly. Benjen said nothing to that, but he wondered. “The girl would take that bird to bed if she could. At some days, she spends more time with him than with real people.”

“What a about her friend?” Robb asked and eyed his cup with obvious disappointment. He had obviously hoped to get wine, but had only received a cup of milk. “Does she talk to her?”

“She does,” Lyanna explained. “But only with Roger…the Queen Mother thinks it is unseemly. He is a peasant. The girl she only requested because she wanted someone other than Gaemon or me to read her letters to her. The girl can barely read, but she seems to please Alysanne well-enough. She even asked the Maester to teach her.”

“Dacey also has peasant maids attending to her,” Benjen pointed out. “I don’t see anything unseemly about that. Well, aren’t there any highborn girls available for her?”

“There are,” Lyanna said and lifted her cup of tea to her lips. There were cakes too and fruits. “But Alysanne couldn’t tolerate any of them. Once she convinced Gaemon to put shit into the bed of Guncer Sunglass’s cousin. The girl left the castle on the same day she had arrived. Mayhaps now that Gaemon is going to be Aegon’s squire, these troubles will end.”

Benjen couldn’t help but to smile. “She is your daughter. You never stopped causing trouble either.”

Robb laughed at that. “You could say the same about my sister Arya. She is always in trouble. Sansa is constantly complaining about her in her letters to me.”

“Is she?” Lyanna asked, her grey eyes suddenly wide. It made her look younger than her nearly thirty years. “What did my youngest niece do?”

Robb didn’t answer at once and put a piece of cake into his mouth, chewing carefully as he contemplated her question.

“There are so many instances,” Robb said after he had swallowed. “Arya is constantly bickering with Sansa. They are like dog and cat, like snow and fire, like rain and sunshine.”

Lyanna chuckled in delight.

“They sound like quite the handful. I never had a sister, so I don’t know what it is like.”

As she had said this, she looked as if she was right there in Winterfell, pulling a prank in company of Arya, though she had in fact never met her little niece. Numerous times, Benjen had tried to convince Ned to bring the children south, but he had always refused. At times, it felt as if Ned wanted to ignore the south’s existence, which is why he had sent Benjen in his stead, though he had also come to pick up Robb and finally bring him back to Winterfell.

“Well, Ned and Brandon used to bicker like too girls if I remember correctly,” Benjen added and suddenly recalled one time when Brandon had sullied Ned’s new doublet. “Brandon was really lonely when Ned was gone.”

“He found is pick in Lady Barbrey Ryswell,” Benjen said and exchanged a knowing smile with Lyanna. “She is still as miserable as ever. You better never get into her sight, sister. Last time, I visited her in company of Ned, she looked as if she wanted to kill me. Once she called Ned a coward to the face.”

Lyanna didn’t look surprised, though she had paled a little.

“I doubt Ned was intimidated,” Lyanna said and smiled Robb with another grace. She had littered him with kisses when she had laid eyes to him, calling him the prettiest boy she had ever seen, which had made the boy blush up to the tip of his ears. “And I doubt she is really angry at Ned. Who she hates is me. She blames Brandon’s death on me.”

Robb nearly dropped his cake when she had said this.

“She wouldn’t dare…,” he was about to say, but Lyanna silenced him with a shaking head.

“She would,” Lyanna said. “I have known her all my life. Tis woman has a sharper tongue than Valyrian steel.”

“Very true,” Benjen agreed and laughed. “But Martyn loves her to bits. He doesn’t even seem to mind that she has only birthed him a daughter. Branda is nearly as old as my girl.”

A mixture of happiness and sadness showed in Lyanna’s eyes. “Of course! I didn’t even ask after your little girl. How old is Lyarra now?”

“Three,” Benjen replied proudly. Lyarra was a happy gift after two miscarriages and Dacey was constantly watching her as if she feared as if she might disappear from one day to the next. “She is nearly three and as lovely as a spring day. She looks a bit like you.”

“And yet you named her after mother,” Lyanna observed. “A good name.”

“I barely remember, mother,” Benjen replied sadly. “I only remember you. Well, I would have gladly called her Lyanna, but Lady Maege’s youngest is already called Lyanna.”

Surprise showed on Lyanna’s face. “I am surprised that they would do that after…,” she trailed off.

Benjen knew what she wanted to say. _After I caused the death of thousands of Northmen._

“Lady Maege has always been a special Lady,” Benjen pointed out. “You do know the story about the parentage of her daughter’s, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Lyanna confirmed. “Does she still claim her precious girls were fathered by a bear?”

Robb’s eyes widened.

“A bear?”

Lyanna burst out in laughter. “You don’t know? Well, it is like this…,” she was about to continue, but Benjen shook his head.

“Tis is not a story appropriate for the boy,” Benjen said. “Well, Lady Stark would think that at least.”

“My brother’s wife,” Lyanna sighed deeply. “I haven’t met her either. It is a shame that I cannot visit the North.”

“I shall write to you, Aunt,” Robb added eagerly. “And I shall ask Sansa and Arya to do the same. Bran doesn’t like writing letters, but I could ask him on your behalf. Well, Rickon is still a baby and not even I have seen him yet. I doubt he is interested in quill and paper.”

“Probably not,” Lyanna said and leaned over to squeeze Robb’s arm. “But I shall gladly receive your letters.”

Robb was about to open his mouth to speak, but the creaking of the door made them turn their heads. It was Gaemon, who was poking his head inside the room, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I wondered if Robb wants to see_ our_ dragon egg,” Gaemon offered and gave his mother a longing look. He carried the same expression his little girl usually made when she wanted sweets. “Only if he wants of course.”

Lyanna made the same expression like Dacey, though her face was longer and her hair of a lighter color. “It is Aemon’s dragon egg. I don’t think he would want you to play with it in his absence, my son.”

Most children would have probably accepted these commanding words, but Gaemon attempted another pout.

“I am not going to play with it, am just showing it to Robb. Aemon wouldn’t be cross with me for that. Robb is after all our cousin and his friend.”

Lyanna looked as if she couldn’t argue with that and looked over to Robb.

“Will you make sure that the egg stays where it is?” Lyanna asked her nephew.

Robb chuckled.

“I shall, dear Aunt,” he promised and rose to his feet. He was out of the door before Lyanna could even say another word.

“A dragon egg?” Benjen asked when they had left. “Truly?”

“Aye,” Lyanna confirmed. “Rhaegar has three of them and gave them to Aegon, Rhaenys and Aemon. He calls them the three heads of the dragons and believes that they will hatch.”

It made sense. Three heads of the dragon…like the sigil of House Targaryen, but that was none of Benjen’s business.

“I do not understand much about dragons, but it is good to see your children happy. They are all quite carefree for being forced to stay here.”

“As I said before, once I am going to King’s Landing Gaemon will be a squire for Aegon,” Lyanna corrected him quickly. “But Alysanne will stay here with Queen Rhaella. She has need of a companion and I do not think if King’s Landing is the right place for my daughter. She doesn’t like the presence of too many people.”

“I cannot fault her for it,” Benjen replied. “King’s Landing is a horrid place. I pity you for having to live there.”

Lyanna smiled. “I will be Queen. I have no other choice. At least, I can finally be properly married. Mayhaps Ned will finally forget his grudge and come.”

“That is very unlikely,” Benjen replied. “I will attend your crowning, but before that I must bring Robb home.”

“There is enough time,” Lyanna assured him. “Rhaegar cannot be wed without an appropriate grieving period. It would be unseemly.”

Benjen said nothing to that. He only had to take a look at Lyanna to know what she was feeling. She was uncomfortable to be Queen.

“You will be a good Queen,” Benjen said without hesitation. “And Ned will eventually forget his grudge. I know it.”

“And his wife?” Lyanna asked sharply.

“Lady Catelyn is a lady. She would treat you with courtesy.”

“Yet, she hates me,” Lyanna replied sadly. “And that is what the rest of my life will be like…full of people smiling at me, but talking behind my back. It is a dreadful thought.”

“Even Ned has to deal with that,” Benjen countered. “There are those who think he shouldn’t have bent the knee to your husband, but Ned shut them all up.”

“Of course he would,” Lyanna said and exhaled deeply. “Of course he would.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have now read Anne Frank's diary. I never got to read that one in school. No, violent scene in any book could ever be as disturbing as the last page of Anne Frank's diary.
> 
> Some fans of George's books say he writes realistic worlds, but reality is far more disturbing than anything anyone of us could ever write.


	26. Aemon

**Aemon**

After a brief bout of rain in the morning, the sun was finally bursting through the clouds and spilled its golden light over their surroundings. It was still summer and nature carried a beautiful dress of green.

“Look!” Gaemon exclaimed cheerfully and pointed at the black bird soaring over the tree crowns. “A crow!”

Aemon didn’t know what to make of his brother’s excitement, but then he suddenly realized that this was the first time he had left Dragonstone. He used to go riding with their mother, but the Kingswood was much bigger than the hinterlands of Dragonstone.

It was a large space of green hills and ancient trees that was sprawling around King’s Landing.

“Alys would love this,” Gaemon said and brushed back his wet silver hair. “This is the fourth bird I have seen today.”

“And you are going to see many more. Stags are beautiful animals,” Aegon said in amusement, as he led his horse along the muddy path, lining the two pavilions that had been erected there. The larger pavilion was made from red silk and belonged to Aegon’s entourage, which consisted of Aemon, Daemon Sand, Obara, Lady Nym, Harry and Ser Arthur Dayne. The smaller pavilion was made from an orange, red and yellow cloth, resembling the colors of House Martell, as it belonged to Prince Oberyn’s party, which consisted of Princess Arianne, Gerris Drinkwater, Renly Baratheon and Quentyn Martell. There were many more men and squires paying witness to the hunt, but there were only so many men who could ride out to hunt a Stag.

_I have always wonder why the Stag is called the kingliest of animals_, Daemon Sand had asked Renly Baratheon not long ago, which had earned him a sharp look by Aegon.

Aemon knew why. He was supposedly another one of Princess Arianne’s suitors and thus it was no wonder that Renly’s presence was a thorn in his eyes.

He even felt a hint of pity for him, though the young man had never shown him anything but dislike. Now, it seemed as if he was directing his anger at Renly.

Aemon didn’t know if he should be happy about that fact nor did he like to be around so many Dornishmen, but Aegon had asked him personally to accompany him to this hunt. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse and he wouldn’t allow _their_ presence to dim his joy.

It had been two years ago, that Aemon had first partaken in a Great Hunt in honor of Rhaenys’ betrothal celebrations, but back then he had still been a squire, only meant to carry crossbows or to attend to the hounds and horses. Now, he was a proper knight and was allowed to partake in the real chase.

Gaemon had been very disappointed when he had heard that a squire wasn’t allowed to hunt the Stag, but it seemed he had already forgotten about it. As a proper squire, Gaemon was immediately at Aegon’s side, his hands eagerly brushing over the horses’ head. “Alys and I read up about Great Hunts. They say the king of the animals is the deer, or more precisely the hart, which is an adult male of the red deer. The book also said the heart can be classified by the number of tines on its antlers. An animal must have at least ten tines to be considered worthy of hunting.”

“My, my!” Aegon said and clucked his tongue. “I have a very smart squire. Mayhaps we should have also invited Alysanne and her gracious bird. That would have been interesting to see.”

Gaemon shook his head. “That wouldn’t be proper, because then it would be a real Great Hunt.”

Aegon chuckled as he slipped from his saddle. He wore simple clothing meant for hunting. His only precious piece of clothing was his crimson cloak and his polished boots which were already covered with mud.

“You are taking all this a bit too serious, little brother,” Aegon said. “Most of do not care about such details.”

Gaemon nodded his head in understanding and nuzzled the horse’s head once more. “I just want to be a good squire.”

“You are…you will be,” Aegon assured him quickly and ruffled his hair. “But first, I must ask you to eat something. Do you hear me, little brother?”

Gaemon dipped his head and walked towards the pavilion.

“We should also eat something,” Aegon said and handed the reins of his horse to the servant that had followed after them. “It is going to be a long day.”

Aemon nodded his head and together they walked back to the pavilion. There they broke their fast on dark breads, boiled eggs, fruits and a sweet cup of wine while their huntsman explained his findings to the assembled hunting party.

Aemon, who had only eaten an apple and a cup of sweet wine, had always found it queer that they would discuss deer droppings while they were breaking their fast.

As expected, Gaemon was watching everything with bright eyes, but his attention was soon directed elsewhere when the two huntsmen brought the dogs.

Aemon had to hold back his brother, for the greyhounds hadn’t been fed in the morning and were hungry for blood. They wouldn’t welcome the attentions of a little boy, Prince or not.

“Gaemon,” Aemon whispered into his ear. “You ought to take care of Aegon’s hunting gear.”

“Of course! Of course!”

Gaemon’s head snapped around faster than an arrow in flight and was quick on his feet to carry the bow and arrows to his horse.

And with these anxious exclamations and the sound of a horn the hunting party moved out. Aemon rode right behind his little brother and always kept a close eye on the younger boy. He himself had yet to take an offical squire and thus he had taken on young Richard Lonmouth for the hunt.

And he couldn’t have been happier. The boy was quick, even if he was a bit shy. He was also Ser Arthur’s nephew and thus Aemon was extra fond of him and intended to keep him happy.

“Have you ever been part of a Great Hunt, Richard?” Aemon asked the boy.

The boy shook his head. “Not yet, but there is a first for everything.”

Aemon couldn’t argue with that and led his horse down the muddy path, through the eastern part of the Kingswood. Aemon had come here before with Dany and knew that there was a small river snaking its way through the hinterlands. The water was deep enough and no Stag would be able to cross over there.

No wonder the huntsman had chosen this path.

The sky darkened again as they passed through a thick perimeter of ironwoods and oaks, followed by birch trees and sentinels. Nobody spoke, the sound of the greyhounds rolling in his ears as the huntsmen tried to keep the dogs on track.

Hours passed, but that was normal. A hunt could take all day or only few hours, depending on the circumstances. They might even run in the wrong direction if the hounds get distracted.

Aemon didn’t mind the discomfort. For him it was like a pleasant ride, but his brother was different. By midday, Gaemon was already beginning to squirm in his saddle.

“How can a Stag hide that well?” he asked in a whispering voice and received sharp looks from everyone around him. Only Aegon seemed amused and smiled at his brother.

“Don’t you worry. We will find the Stag soon enough.”

Gaemon said nothing to that and then they continued onwards, the sun climbing higher and higher until long shadows were beginning to crawl behind them.

Barely an hour later, they finally spotted the Stag the head huntsmen had chosen for them, though only from afar and a moment later the gracious animal had disappeared through the green foliage.

“We ought to separate,” Aegon suggested and looked at Harry. “Aemon, Richard, Gaemon, Ser Arthur and I shall take the western path and Daemon, Nym, Obara and you shall take the eastern path. What do you say, Harry?”

“That we are going to miss you,” Obara snorted. “Lord Hardyng is too slow for our Dornish steads.”

Harry frowned at that, as if to say: “That is why you don’t take women to a hunt!”

“Don’t fret about it, dear sister,” Nym added seductively and brushed her hand over the whip fastened at her hip. “I think I can help Lord Hardyng along.”

“We ought to hurry or the Stag will run off,” Daemon added in obvious annoyance.

“You heard the man, Harry,” Aegon said with a smile and spurred his horse into a quick gallop. “We ought to hurry.”

Harry nodded his head and off they were to chase after the priced Stag. Aemon had taken part in such a hunt before, but for Gemon it was a grand adventure, his face alight with happiness as they drove their horses into the thicket of the woods.

The clopping of horse hooves rang in their ears as they rode down a hill and then up a steep way before moving down again. As they curved around a large oak tree, the sunlight made the leaves of the tree glitter like jewels, blinding him for the matter of a heartbeat.

“Just a bit further….there must be another hill,” their huntsman announced and pointed ahead.

Aegon nodded his head in understanding. “I thought so.”

Then, he shifted his attention back to Aemon, Gaemon, Richard and Ser Arthur. He whispered. “You heard the man. Keep your horses calm. If we are lucky we will reach the Stag before my Uncle does.”

Aemon didn’t even need any encouragement, but Gemon looked as if he was bout to burst with excitement.

“You heard, Aegon,” he told his little brother. “Keep your horse calm.”

Gaemon frowned and nodded his head in confirmation. “I heard him.”

Ever carefully, he led his horse forward, Aemon, Richard and Ser Arthur following after him.

A branch of leaves brushed over his face as she led his horse down the hill and around a patch of nut trees. One had collapsed, perhaps hit by thunder, half-blocking the path, which prompted them to stop.

“What are you waiting for?” Aegon asked and lead the way. Gaemon was just about to prompt his horse into a gentle hop when an arrow hit the nearby tree trunk.

Aemon hadn’t wasted a heartbeat and had rushed forward to protect Gaemon and Richard, who had both been riding behind Aegon.

In that very moment, another arrow hit the ground right in front of Aemon and the world was silenced by the thunder of horse hooves.

When Aemon lifted his head, he saw four riders, all garbed in thick armor, rushing through the thicket of the trees.

Another arrow followed which was snapped away by Aemon’s sword. But then another arrow followed and another…

Aemon didn’t waste any time. He wheeled around his horse and slashed his sword in the closest enemy.

The horse shrieked when Aemon’s blade collided with the animal’s head and hurled the rider into the next tree.

Another man had followed his movement and when Aemon turned around he saw Ser Arthur swinging his pale blade, Dawn.

And within the blink of a moment, everything had descended into chaos. The shrieking and grunts of men could be heard, but Aemon’s eyes were searching for his brother, whom he found grouching on the ground, his horse gone.

Aegon had placed himself before him and Richard cowered beside him, a bolt sticking from his shoulder and tears rolling down his cheek as he gritted his teeth. He had a small sword in hand, red from the lifeblood of his enemy.

“Do you know who you are attacking?” Aegon demanded to know and placed himself before them. Ser Arthur was close now, his pale blade splattered with blood. “The crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms!”

_Keep your mouth shut_, Aemon thought and was immediately at his brother’s side. Gemon was alive, but his face was very pale. Yet, it was not his face that scared Aemon, but the sight of his lacking ear. It must have been cleaved off by a sword and fresh blood was still streaming from the wound.

His brother said nothing, but he was trembling from head to toe.

Aemon hadn’t even noticed that the battle had continued to rage around them.

It was Aegon’s alarmed shout that snapped him back to the present.

“Aemon! Get your bloody blade!”

Aemon gritted his blade and blocked a man’s blow to Aegon’s left. Fresh bolts were unleashed, horses shrieked and his racing heart spurred him on. The man that had attacked Aegon was fast, but his beautiful armor was more a hinderance than an advantage. When Aemon saw Ser Arthur Dayne freed from the clutches of another enemy, Aemon slashed his blade at the man’s helmet before throwing himself around his waist to haul him to the ground.

Together they rolled down the hill. Brambles and foliage slapped his face and dust rose into the air around them, blurring his sight.

Yet, the man was unusually strong and had somehow twisted his arm to the side. Soon, he was half on top of him, but the sight of his brother’s cleaved off ear was enough to rouse his fighting spirit.

Once, twice and a third time, he slashed the pommel into the man’s head before he finally stumbled backwards and Aemon managed to pull him down again.

In that moment, a sharp sting bit into his shoulder.

Aemon clenched his teeth, dropped his sword and pulled out his hunting dagger. To kill a man in plate with a sword was hard, but a dagger could serve that purpose.

Yet, the bolt had won his enemy time. He had somehow recovered and had bashed his steel of fist into Aemon’s face.

Blood filled his mouth and nose, stars dancing before his eyes as he tried to bite away the pain.

Aemon lifted his hand, balled it to a fist and hit once more. It was not enough and the man grabbed his arm, twisting it to the side…

In that moment, someone grabbed his enemy from behind and pulled him to the ground. It was Ser Arthur Dayne.

The man struggled viciously, but soon the man was pinned to the ground.

Aemon’s mind was already with his brother, whom he found in Aegon’s arms.

“I am well,” Gaemon stuttered. “I am well.”

Aemon was about to open his mouth, but Arthur’s rather loud utterance caused them all to turn their heads.

Ser Arthur had just removed the helmet of the man that had attacked Aemon.

Blood covered the man’s nose and lips, sweaty silver hair sticking to his face. His dark violet eyes were filled with hatred.

Aemon had never seen the man before, but Arthur seemed to know him.

“Cousin,” Arthur said, his voice laced with anger. “Cousin.”

...

…


	27. Aegon

**Aegon**

“How could these men have known about the exact position of the hunt?” his father asked, his voice hard like iron.

Aegon stood beneath the throne and his Uncle Prince Oberyn was beside him. There was also Lord Jon Connington, the Hand of the King and the Kingsguard.

Only Ser Arthur was kneeling before the throne, for he had just recounted the events that had transpired barely a week turn ago.

They had been close at the Stag’s heels when these scoundrels had attacked them. All that Aegon recalled was a clamor of swords, the snapping of arrows and the shriek of his younger brother when _this _man had cleaved off his ear.

Then, they had fought and Ser Arthur had managed to reveal the identity of the perpetrator that had dared to lay a hand on his brother. It had been no other than Ser Gerold Dayne, cousin to Ser Arthur Dayne.

Even now, Aegon could see the horror written all over Ser Arthur’s face. The shame must be hard to endure.

“The huntsmen who had been patrolling the Kingswood in the morning told us that they saw no one,” Ser Barristan added and came to stand beside Ser Arthur. “They must have found a loophole or known exactly when the huntsmen were patrolling the woods. Whoever planned this must have a capable spy in King’s Landing, your Grace.”

“So much is clear,” his father said and leaned his head on his balled fist. He looked tired, his eyes underlined by dark cringes and his unbraided falling over his shoulders in disarray. “But the more important question is: Who did this and why?

Yet, his father didn’t allow the men to answer, but continued with his own conclusions, his dark eyes flickering from Lord Jon Connington to his Uncle Oberyn, who was clearly not pleased to be here.

“What bothers me the most is that this man was a Dornishman and Arthur’s cousin.”

His father looked composed, but he could hear the anger ringing in his voice.

“Ser Gerold was exiled by Uncle Doran for insulting Uncle Viserys, father,” Aegon added politely and searched his father’s face.”

“And for preventing the match between my niece and Prince Viserys,” his Uncle said. “That was the very reason my brother exiled Ser Gerold Dayne. He shamed my niece by sprouting all these unseemly rumors.”

“Rumors that are not without truth,” said Lord Jon Connington. “Your niece is known to follow into your footsteps.”

Aegon felt the urge to kicked Lord Connington for these sharp words, but then his Uncle Oberyn had never been particularly polite to his father’s Hand. _A man with a stick up his arse_, he used to call him behind his back, but in truth it was Jon Connington’s unfavorable opinion of his mother that was the reason for their dislike for each other.

“I care not to hear about Princess Arianne’s bedmates,” his father said rather coldly. “And I have not forgotten that _this_ man had been exiled by Prince Doran. Please tell me, what was _his_ motivation for this act of cruelty against a child?”

“My cousin was always a vain man…,” Ser Arthur began, but the wave of his father’s hand silenced him at once.

“I have already heard your opinion on this matter, Arthur,” he said, his dark gaze still fixed on his Uncle Oberyn. “I want to hear Prince Oberyn’s opinion.”

His Uncle sucked in a deep breath and faced the King. “Well, if you want to hear my humble opinion, your Grace, I think there is a simple answer to your question: Ser Gerold Dayne is a vain fool, who deemed himself the second Sword of the Morning. I suppose he thought that by challenging Prince Viserys he could win my niece’s heart. Well, that failed as we know and then after my brother had exiled him he must have felt hurt in his pride. I suppose he thought he could impress my brother by ridding himself of _your_ sons…considering what most Dornish think of your second wife and children.”

His father nodded his head and dropped his balled fist back into his lap.

“It is well known to me what your brother thinks of my second wife and children,” his father said tensely. “And perhaps that was the reason for Ser Gerold Dayne’s actions. I cannot say what is true or not, but you have to admit how this tale will appear to be very suspicious to those who hear of this tale. Even so, I wish for peace, which is why I will let this go. Ser Gerold will of course be punished for his actions, but that only concerns myself and him.”

His Uncle Oberyn nodded his head in understanding and Aegon felt relief washing over him. He had feared this would end badly, but it seemed his father thought this matter just as suspicious as Aegon. Still, he could still sense his father’s anger and knew that he was holding himself.

“Dorne also wishes for peace, your Grace,” his Uncle Oberyn replied and clenched his teeth. “I shall be pleased to see Ser Gerold Dayne punished for ruining Aegon’s hunt.”

“We shall have another,” Aegon promised with a quick smile to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them. “Soon, but now you must travel back to Dorne to report this matter to my Uncle Doran.”

“Of course,” his Uncle Oberyn said and was looking at Aegon. He avoided looking at his father. “You are right, nephew. My brother needs to hear of this.”

“Good to hear,” his father added in a final tone. “I shall arrange a ship for you if you wish, Prince Oberyn.”

“I can take care of this matter myself,” his Uncle Oberyn replied tensely and not long after Aegon was chasing after him along the hall, servants passing by at every step.

“How dare _he_ accuse me?” he asked angrily. “I would never use a vain fool like Ser Gerold Dayne.”

Aegon didn’t quite understand how that made it any better, but then his Uncle Oberyn had always been a rather outspoken man.

“My father didn’t accuse you,” Aegon pointed out after they had entered his Uncle’s chamber and had barred the door. He was glad that Lady Ellaria had taken the Sand Snakes and Princess Arianne for a walk in the gardens. “He only pointed out the truth. You and Uncle Doran never made a secret about your dislike for Lady Lyanna and my siblings and now _someone_ is trying to use this against us…probably to put us against each other.”

“I know so much,” his Uncle Oberyn said and went to search through his strongbox. Eventually, he found a silver flask and drank deeply. It was probably wine. “But that doesn’t make it any less humiliating.”

Aegon wrinkled his brows in confusion. “My father didn’t mean to humiliate you, Uncle. He is angry and hasn’t slept a single hour since my brother was brought to the Grand Maester. I know you hold no love for my half-siblings, but Gaemon is a child and he nearly got butchered like a pig.”

“It is not the boy I dislike, but your father,” his Uncle Oberyn replied bluntly and took another sip from his silver flask. “You know that.”

“I know that, but others don’t,” Aegon said and stepped closer. “Don’t make your life harder than it is. I suggest heading my father’s advice…leave King’s Landing until the storm has calmed. That will please my father.”

“I couldn’t care less what pleases him,” his Uncle Oberyn snapped back and searched Aegon’s face, his dark eyes, so very much like his mother’s burning into his. “How can you bare seeing _this_ woman take your mother’s place?”

“She is the mother of my siblings,” Aegon said calmly. “And has always minded her place. Her only failure was not to love the man he father had chosen for her and I cannot fault he for that. And my father…you may hate him, but he is my father and our King. He didn’t love mother, but then he never had a choice in the matter either. You may think he was the luckiest man alive for having her, but then you are a second son and you don’t know the burdens of a firstborn son. For the sake of all our peace, I think you should keep your thoughts to yourself. You will always have my support, but I won’t have discord in _my_ family.”

Aegon had spoken so quickly, he had barely been able to breath.

His Uncle’s lips twisted. “And I think you were not speaking about your father, but about yourself. You shouldn’t compare yourself to your father_,_ nephew. You are much better than _him_. And now let me pack.”

Aegon could tell by the tone of his Uncle’s voice that this was the end of their conversation.

Trying to talk with his Uncle in this state, would be no use to anyone.

Thus, he decided to seek out his brother.

The smell of herbs filled his nose as he entered his brother’s chamber. To his surprise, he found Gaemon propped up against soft cushions and covered with furs.

His face was pale and his ear and head was covered with wool bindings. For three days, he had been stricken with high fever and his wound had been swollen and covered with puss.

Especially, the fever spurts had scared them. The Grand Maester had even put Gaemon into an ice bath to bring down the fever, but only Archmaester Marwyn’s potions had helped to heal the inflammation around the ear.

_He will most likely not be able to hear on the right side_, the Grand Maester had informed them afterwards, which had shocked them. Aemon had taken it the worst and had ran off to spend all evening in company of Harry, who had come back bruised with a multitude of bruises.

Aegon hadn’t been surprised. Aemon had always had the tendency to express his anger on the practice yard.

“Egg!” Gaemon exclaimed and pulled himself into a sitting position, nearly throwing over the pieces that were placed on the wooden board near his bedside. “I am surprised you came!”

Aegon returned his smile and gave Lady Lyanna a polite nod, who was seated beside the window. On the soft carpet beneath her feet, sat a girl, whose presence surprised him. It was Lady Shireen, garbed into a pale dress and her dark hair tied in a knot atop her head. As always, she had a book in her lap, though her blue eyes had immediately searched for his when he had entered the room…

She said nothing, her cheeks flushed. She was a sweet girl, but Aegon couldn’t deny that he was worried about their future. How could he wed a girl that could scarcely speak two sentences in his presence?

_She only needs to bear you healthy heirs_, Harry had told him once, but then Harry wasn’t the most respectful person when it came to girls. He had had his string of lovers and Aegon doubted he would ever be faithful to any girl, no matter how beautiful she was.

Aegon himself enjoyed the company of pretty girls, but there was a difference between spending time with girls and bedding them.

Aegon had long decided that he would have no such bothers, but at times, especially when he was looking at Rhaenys, he felt sorely tempted. He should probably call himself lucky that his sister was all prim and proper and had taken a great liking to her husband or he would be in great trouble.

“You look well, brother,” Aegon remarked and dipped his head when the two other girls turned their heads. One was Lady Myrcella Lannister, a golden-haired girl with plump lips and jaden eyes and the other one was, Lady Allyria Dayne, Ser Arthur’s youngest sister. She was Aegon’s age and a dark-haired beauty with deep violet eyes, that always seemed to glower at the people around her. “But that should be no surprise, with such beauties attending to you all day long.”

Lady Myrcella giggled and covered her mouth with her hand while Lady Allyria eyed Aegon with mistrust, as if she didn’t quite believe his compliment.

“That is kind of you, your Grace,” she said and pulled on Lady Myrcella’s arm. “Do you want to sit down?”

Lady Myrcella giggled. Then, she took Lady Allyria’s arm and sat down beside Lady Shireen.

“Are there any news? Where is Aemon?” Gaemon asked eagerly.

“Training,” Aegon answered. “And there are no new developments. I suppose Ser Gerold Dayne will be executed.”

Gaemon said nothing. He was a child, but he knew what that would mean. He was after all a squire.

“The Grand Maester says I will be able to leave the bed in a moon…then I can be squire again,” he told Aegon proudly and pointed at his whole ear. “But you will have to speak to my left side. I know it will be a terrible bother…I hope you don’t mind.”

Aegon couldn’t believe his ears.

“I couldn’t ask for a better squire,” Aegon assured his brother with a pat on his back, before showing him the book and letter Rhaenys had sent from the Reach. “And now enough about this sad talk. Rhaenys sent you a gift and a letter.”

Gaemon smiled and turned his head to look at Lady Lyanna, who had listened to their exchange in respectful silence.

“Do you see? A story book. I love those. Rhaenys knows how to spoil me.”

“Of course she does,” Lady Lyanna added, a hint of a smile crossing over her lips. She was working on some small tunic, meant for a babe, which only confirmed what Aegon had been suspecting for a while. She was with child, though there was hardly anything visible through her layered dress of blue-and-grey silk. ”That is what sisters do…spoiling their siblings.”

Gaemon chuckled and Lady Myrcella laughed, her pretty green eyes flickering to Lady Lyanna.

“Truer words were never spoken,” Lady Myrcella said. “Which is why always hoped for a little brother. I would be delighted to spoil him.”

“Mayhaps you will, my Lady,” Lady Allyria added sarcastically. “Your mother is only a handful of years older than Lady Lyanna, isn’t she? Mayhaps she will remarry in the near future.”

“She is,” Lady Myrcella said and averted her gaze. “But my parents were not very fond of each other. I think my mother has no interest in marrying again.”

“As if that is necessary to conceive a child,” Lady Allyria added tartly. “Well, mayhaps the gods will smile upon you and grand your wish.”

Then, she rose to her feet. “We ought to leave. It is almost time for our bath.”

Lady Myrcella looked disappointed, but Lady Lyanna gave them each an encouraging smile.

“Off you go, girls. There is nothing better than a proper bath.”

Lady Myrcella didn’t look as if she was interested in a bath, but didn’t refuse the future Queen’s commands.

She made a perfect curtsey and walked to the door while Lady Allyria shifted her attention back to Lady Shireen.

“Are you coming?” Lady Allyria asked, but Lady Shireen shook her head.

“I rather stay,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I shall join you later.”

Both girls shared a strange look and it seemed that they hadn’t expected this answer.

“Very well,” Lady Allyria said and left in company of Lady Myrcella.

Aegon spent the rest of the evening in company of his brother…and Lady Shireen.

He expected her to leave at one point, but even hours later, she was still there, her blue eyes meeting his whenever he turned to look at her.

Yet, it was Lady Lyanna’s request that caught him off guard.

“Would you escort Lady Shireen back to her chambers in the Maidenvault?”

Aegon, who couldn’t stand silence, was the first one to speak.

“Do you like King’s Landing?”

Lady Shireen lifted her blue gaze and clutched her book to her chest as if it was a shield meant to protect her against some invisible enemy.

Yet, she didn’t look afraid. On the contrary, her blue eyes were filled with curiosity.

“I have been here long enough. I could have left if I didn’t like it. My father would do it just to displease my mother.”

Aegon was not surprised to hear that. It was well known that the Lord of the Stormslands held not much love for his wife. Lady Lynesse Hightower was a beauty, who enjoyed her life to the fullest while Stannis Baratheon was a grim and serious man, who held not much love for festivities. That she had not borne him a living son, must also be a burden their marriage.

“Then, you are lucky to have such a hold over your father. My father and mother were no great love match either, but I was never able to manipulate one against the other.”

Lady Shireen said nothing to that and walked along the rest of the corridor, where a guardsman watched them pass to towards her chambers.

He expected her to take her leave there, but she did nothing of the sort. “ We could go to the goodswood. It is quiet there.”

Aegon was surprised by her offer, but didn’t want to appear impolite.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The godswood of the Red Keep was a small patch of wood with a handful of oaks, sentinels and birch trees, but the smell of flowers was a pleasant change.

He could understand that Lady Shireen like coming here.

She even sighed when she sat down in the grass and placed her book beside her on the ground. Aegon did the same and sat down atop his spread cloak, as he searched Lady Shireen’s face.

Just as his eyes met hers, she sucked in a deep breath and spoke suddenly much louder.

“I am glad you didn’t refuse,” she said and lifted her hands to the knot atop her head. With a handful of pulls her hair tumbled all the way down to her ankles. “Now I can finally speak openly.”

Aegon was confused by her actions. “What gave you the impression you couldn’t do so before?”

“Because my mother has her eyes everywhere,” she told him. “She would be displeased if she saw me like this. She can be very strict…she thinks I need to be quiet and proper or you will not marry me.”

Aegon was baffled by this answer.

“Then, your mother is wrong. I prefer people who talk…a lot, like myself.”

Lady Shireen nodded her head, her black hair falling around her pale face like a river of ink. She chuckled uncomfortable and in a breeze of amusement she pulled off her stockings and shoes, throwing them behind her back.

“Well, I am not a great talker…,” she informed him. “And I have yet to get used to so many people in one place. Storm’s End is a rather lonely place. My books are my companions. To be honest, this is the first time I have real companions….girl companions, I mean.”

“You had no companions while growing up?” Aegon asked. “May I ask why?”

Shireen pulled her knees to her chest and brushed her toes through the flowers beneath her feet.

“I had companions when I was little, but one of them gave me the measles, which killed my baby brother and nearly myself. Ever since, my mother refused to have other children around me. The only person my age I had was my father’s squire, but my mother didn’t like him in my presence. She considers him too low-born for my status and thus I had to be contend with my Nan.”

“Your Nan?” Aegon prodded.

“My nursemaid,” she said. “She died when I was eight, though. I had a fool too, for a short time, but my mother found him ugly and asked father to sent him away. This one time, my father agreed. Well, thus I had to contend myself with my own person.”

“What about your father?”

“He takes not much interest in child-rearing, but he isn’t half as bad as he sounds. When he is there, he is less bothersome than my mother.”

“And your mother?” he asked. “I thought she has her eyes everywhere.”

“Of course,” Lady Shireen replied with a knowing smile. “Which is why I spent most of my time trying to escape her ever-seeing eyes.”

Aegon had to laugh at that. It was one thing they had in common: overbearing mothers.

“Mine was much the same,” he told her. “But not in an unpleasant way. Now, I wouldn’t mind it so much…you know.”

Lady Shireen said nothing to that. “Mothers are supposed to be bothersome, but mine is mad. Do you want to hear about her ridiculous rules?”

Aegon was curious and nodded his head in confirmation. “Pray tell me, which rules did Lady Hightower impose on you?”

“Until I was ten,” Lady Shireen said with an amused smile. “I wasn’t allowed to go down the steps without the assistance of another person. The first time I came here, I hopped up and down the steps, smiling and laughing. Lady Allyria and Lady Myrcella asked me of I hit my head.”

Aegon chuckled. “I would have probably done the same, but I understand you. I also enjoy my limited freedom, but with every passing year it grows less. Sometimes, I am really jealous of my brother. He has it so much easier.”

“Prince Aemon,” Lady Shireen repeated. “He is so grim and serious. He reminds me a little of my father. I suppose it is understandable.”

“How so?” Aegon asked.

“Because how he was born…my mother says a child like that must be cursed by the gods,” Lady Shireen said and grimaced. “I don’t agree with that, but I suppose your brother experienced much dislike for being who he is.”

“Aemon was always like that,” Aegon said. “A tad melancholic, I mean. He takes after my father, but he can be very cheerful and warm if he wants to be. But I agree with you…he receives dislike for something he had no hand in. Tell me, does your father hate my brother?”

Lady Shireen shrugged her shoulders. “I would pay a lot of gold coins to know what is going on in my father’s head.”

Aegon felt as if she had spoken right from his heart.

“My father is much the same, but less grim than yours. I think we have more in common than I thought.”

Lady Shireen smiled shyly. “Perhaps you are right…But you are not a great reader, are you?”

“No,” Aegon replied honestly. “But you are not a great rider, are you, my Lady?”

Lady Shireen chuckled. “No, but only because my mother forbade it. It might take up riding if is to your liking.”

Aegon liked the sound of that. “And I might take up a book now and then…only upon your recommendation, of course.”

“Oh, I have plenty of those,” Lady Shireen promised and rose back to her feet to pick up her stockings and shoes. “You would never leave you chamber if I gave you all the books I have read.”

Then she had pulled on her stockings and shoes, fastened her hair atop her head and clutched her book to her chest.

Aegon smiled at her. “And I shall do my best to read them. My father will certainly be pleased to hear it. He always chides me for neglecting my studies.”

…


	28. Viserys

**Viserys**

“What kind of punishment should be given to Ser Gerold Dayne?” his brother asked again, his dark eyes searching the faces of each of his council members.

There was Grand Maester Theobald, Lord Monford, the Master of Ships, Ser Richard Lonmouth, the Master of Whisperers, Ser Kevan Lannister, the Master of Coin, Lord Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Laws, Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and at last, Lord Jon Connington, the Hand of the King. Viserys occupied only an honorary position, but that didn’t mean he had no say in the matters of the Realm. His brother always listened, but unlike other days, Lady Lyanna, his brother’s future Queen had joined them as well.

One could see the lack of sleep in her long and pale face and the greyish dress she wore only added to the impression of exhaustion. It was the first time that Viserys thought her.

Not that Viserys was surprised by her somber demeanor. Most of the men in attendance had spoken ill about her in the past and now she was here to hear about the man that had tried to murder her two sons.

“I think the answer is quite simple, your Grace,” the Hand of the King said. “The sentence for harming a member of the royal family is being hanged and flayed alive. Mayhaps we should also take his ear…a fitting punishment, given what he had tried to do.”

Going by his brother’s expression, Viserys deduced that he wanted to see Ser Gerold Dayne punished, but not the way Lord Connington had just suggested.

“Flaying?” Lady Lyanna asked and grimaced. “That is the handiwork of the Boltons. Isn’t it enough to hang him?”

“Hanging is too small of a punishment for a vicious person like him,” Ser Richard said. “And people might think our King weak if he doesn’t punish those who try to harm his family. Do you not wish for vengeance, my Lady?”

Lady Lyanna nodded her head in confirmation and folded her hands in lap, her grey eyes seeking Ser Richard’s over the table. “I want to see Ser Gerold punished, but I dislike this practice of making a spectacle out of an execution. People aren’t supposed to enjoy the death of a man.”

“How is it done in the North, my Lady?” Lord Stannis asked, his voice laced with slight mockery. “Does your brother not execute his criminals? My daughter told me once that in the ancient past the Northmen even sacrificed such men to the old gods.”

Lord Connington coughed in displeasure and Ser Richard chuckled lightly. Viserys himself suppressed a smile, but his brother remained as serious as Lady Lyanna.

“As you said…that was in the past, Lord Stannis,” Lady Lyanna replied and angled her head to look directly at the Lord of the Stormlands. “And to answer your other question…My brother does execute men that break the law, by taking their heads. Some get hanged too, but my brother prefers the sword and so did my father before him. It is usually a clean death, especially if done with Valyrian steel.”

“I agree with Lyanna,” his brother added again and smiled sadly. “A clean death would be preferable. Ser Arthur asked me kindly to take into consideration that his cousin is only a victim of his own pride.”

“Pride or not,” Ser Richard added hotly. “This prideful man nearly murdered my son. I want to see him bleed.”

“I have to agree with Richard in this matter, your Grace,” the Hand of the King countered. “You must show strength or your enemies will think you weak.”

“They already think us weak,” Lyanna said. “Or they would have never attempted to do this in the first place. The truth of it all is, that none of us knows why this has happened or how they knew about the exact position of the Hunt. The only thing I know is this…Whoever planned this hunt must have good eyes and ears in King’s Landing.”

“We have questioned everyone suspicious,” Ser Gerold Hightower said. “And we tried our best to make Ser Gerold Dayne speak, but he refused to give the names of those who sent him. He claims that it was all his doing and that he wanted to do a service to Dorne.”

“There you have it,” Lord Monford said. “It is practically a confession any yet you allowed the Dornish envoy to leave without repercussions? Why?”

“Because Prince Doran Martell was the one who exiled Ser Gerold,” Viserys said. “I was there myself and I can tell you, Lord Monford, there was no love between the Prince and _this_ man. I think it is more likely that someone is trying to blame this incident on Dorne. I think we are dealing with enemies who are hiding away in the shadows while trying to spread chaos amongst our midst.”

“That is all good and fine,” Ser Kevan Lannister summed up. “But we still have to decide on a punishment for Ser Gerold. Dayne.”

“May I make a suggestion?” his good-sister asked suddenly, some of the old determination glimmering in her bright grey eyes. “I think I know a compromise that would please me and Ser Richard both.”

If Rhaegar was surprised, it didn’t show on his face. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and waved his hand.

“Speak.”

“Ser Gerold Dayne is a capable swordsman, is he not?”

“He is capable enough,” Rhaegar confirmed. “Why are you asking?”

“Because the Night’s Watch has always need of men with such abilities,” his good-sister explained. “You yourself told me more than once that the Night’s Watch has need of good men.”

“Sure,” his brother replied and shrugged his shoulders in obvious disbelief. “Does that mean you want me to let him live?”

Lady Lyanna shook her head and narrowed her grey eyes. “I say, let the gods decide his fate.”

Lord Stannis snorted. “ And here I thought these tales about the old gods were just tales for children?”

Lady Lyanna chuckled drily.

“No, I thought of a different punishment. I say Ser Gerold Dayne should suffer the same fate as my son. Cut off his hear and lock him up in a cell, but refuse him the aid of a Maester. If he survives he can go to the Night’s Watch and make himself useful and if he doesn’t, we are rid of him without making our hands dirty. It is that simply.”

Then, she turned to look at Ser Richard. “Does that please you, Ser Richard?”

It was evident by the expression on Ser Richard’s face that he was not happy, but as expected he minded his manners and dipped his head in reverence. Even he knew how fond the King was of his future Queen, though Viserys was confused that Lady Lyanna hadn’t called for Ser Gerold’s head. She always appeared to lack the fragility of other ladies. He doubted it was out of fear of blood. No, there had to be another reason for her hesitance, but Viserys doubted she would tell him.

“It pleases me enough,” Ser Richard said.

Rhaegar’s dark eyes were wide and filled with confusion.

“Are you sure about this, Lyanna?”

His good-sister nodded her head in confirmation. “I think that is the best way to serve everyone.”

Rhaegar sat back in his chair and sighed deeply. “Very well, Ser Gerold’s punishment is decided.”

Hushed whispers followed the council members all the way out of the room, leaving only Rhaegar, Viserys, Lady Lyanna.

Viserys had asked for this private talk, for he wanted to announce his intentions regarding Lady Ysilla Royce. Rhaegar had told him to be patient and that Royce might overthink his refusal, but Viserys was not getting any younger and was done waiting for a future that may never come.

“You asked us to speak alone,” Rhaegar said as he came to stand in front of Lyanna’s chair. “I hope you don’t mind Lyanna’s presence. She would hear about it anyway.”

“No, it does not bother me,” Viserys confirmed. He sucked in a deep breath before he spoke. “To make it short…I intend to take Lady Ysilla to the Vale and speak with Lord Royce in person. I know this might seem overblown, but I have never particularly cared for grand marriage ceremonies anyway and intend to wed in the Vale after getting Lord Royce’s approval.”

His brother stared back at him in confusion and Lyanna chuckled.

“So you want to confront Lord Royce with the blunt truth?” Lady Lyanna asked.

A flush of heat made his cheeks burn. “No, of course not. As I said…intend to convince Lord Royce of my intentions and shall promise a generous dowery. I never touched our father’s inheritance, you know that. I have enough coin and now I intend to make use of it.”

“I understand your intentions, brother,” Rhaegar replied. “But you know Lord Royce. I do not think it is the dowry that bothers him. I think he has personal reasons for refusing my offer. I think he simply prefers Harry over you. It is not unlikely that he will be the future Lord of the Vale.”

“Perhaps it would help to give Viserys lands of his own,” Lady Lyanna said and touched Rhaegar’s arm. “That would make him appear much more tempting.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and brushed the back of his hand over his chin. “That is would be a possibility, but not necessarily enough to win change Lord Royce’s stubborn mind.”

“Well, I think it is worth a try, Rhaegar,” Lyanna said. “By sitting back and doing nothing, Viserys won’t accomplish anything. So much is clear.”

“So much is clear,” Rhaegar agreed and pondered his lady’s request for a brief moment before giving his answer. “News have reached us that Lady Whent perished from and since she and her husband had no children the future Lord of Harrenhall has yet to be decided upon.”

“But wouldn’t her husband be the natural heir?” Viserys asked hesitatingly. A hunted place like Harrenhall was not really tempting.

“That would be the usual procedure,” Rhaegar said. “But Lady Whent was seemingly not very fond of her husband and disinherited him in the will she had left to a close confident. Lord Petyr Baelish, that is the man’s name, claims that she was not right in her mind when she wrote this last will, but I see no reason why I should go against Lady Whent’s last wish. She seemed quite sound in mind the last time I visited her. What do you say, brother? Do you want Harrenhall? It is not a rich land, but the castle is large and your coin could do wonders for this lordship. Lady Ysilla would also not be far away from home.”

“I am sure that would please, Lady Ysilla,” Viserys agreed and tried to hide his disappointment. “Does that mean I have your approval, brother?”

Rhaegar gave a hesitant nod. “You have my approval. When will you leave?”

“After the coronation,” Viserys explained. „If it pleases you.”

Rhaegar didn’t refuse his request and Viserys didn’t hesitate to seek out his lady of the heart, though he found her occupied in company of three other ladies, namely his sister, Lady Myrcella, Lady Allyria Dayne and Lady Shireen, who were all seated around an ebony bank, books, harps and needlework in hand.

Their insufferable giggling greeted him as he stepped closer.

“What brings you here, Prince Viserys?” Lady Myrcella asked sweetly. She was a little mix, her green eyes gleaming brightly. “Perhaps some important summon of the heart?”

Viserys had no intention to speak with this little girl about such matters and tried to be polite.

“May I speak alone with, Lady Ysilla?”

Daenerys was quick to react, her hand stifling the laughter that was threatening to burst forward.

“I think we ought to leave, my ladies,” his sister announced, gathered her pink skirt and led the way. The other girls followed like obedient little ducklings, but Viserys had the feeling that they would hear everything that was now going to transpire tonight.

“So, what did the King say?” asked Lady Ysilla, as he sat beside her and squeezed his hand.

“My brother gave his approval,” Viserys said and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Now I only need to win your father’s approval?”

Lady Ysilla smiled. “I know my father well enough to know that he is never going to change his mind. That is why I suggest a different plan…We are going to get married and then we go to Essos. We are of course, going to inform my father about our intentions afterwards and hope for the best. Believe me, it is the only way.”

Viserys head had snapped up faster than an arrow. “I thought I was supposed to ask for your father’s approval?”

“Which he will never give,” Lady Ysilla repeated and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. The warm breath on his ears made him shudder, but he refrained from doing more, for the eyes and ears of the courtiers were everywhere. “My father will surely be angry, but he is not going to harm a Prince of House Targaryen. He will swallow his pride eventually.”

“But he will think me _dishonorable_,” Viserys argued.

“He thinks all Targaryens dishonorable,” Lady Ysilla. “But he will accept it once I provide him with his first grandchild.”

Viserys laughed, but was hesitant. Still, Ysilla knew her father better than Viserys. “You have it all planned out, have you?”

Lady Ysilla nodded her head, a sweet smile curling on her pink lips, which went all the way to his groin. He felt ashamed, but he was only a man.

“I have,” she whispered and touched her lips to his. “I have.”

…


	29. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella smiled as she laid eyes on her youngest granddaughter, the violet dress she wore made of the sleekest of silk. Alysanne was sightless, but she was a pretty girl from the top of her head all the way down to her small toes.

In a few years from now she would make a pretty bride, that is if they were able to find a proper bridegroom for her.

“My dress suits you,” Rhaella said and squeezed Alysanne’s hand. “I can give you some more dresses if you like.”

“The three you gave me are beautiful to touch,” her granddaughter replied. “I think that will be enough for my short stay in King’s Landing.”

Rhaella was not surprised to hear this. “Your mother hoped you might want to stay longer in King’s Landing.”

Her granddaughter’s answer was as blunt as ever. “I do wish to remain here at Dragonstone. What I heard about King’s Landing does not please me. They cut off my brother’s ear. I do not want to know what they would do with someone like me.”

Rhaella was not surprised to hear that. Her granddaughter had been very upset when she had heard about the incident that had befallen her brother and had locked herself for three whole days, writing one letter after another.

Only when the last raven had announced that her brother was on the way to recovery, did she return to her friends, the bird _Storm_ and the animal’s caretaker, Roger.

Rhaella knew it was unseemly, but then she was also glad that her granddaughter had found a semblance of happiness.

“You must be afraid,” Rhaella said and pulled her closer to place a kiss on her cheek. “But I am sure all will be well.”

Her granddaughter returned the kiss and rose back to her full height. “I am not afraid. I just don’t like leaving you, grandmother.”

Rhaella was surprised to hear that, but tried to overplay the truth of the matter. She was indeed a little lonely, though she had Ser Bonifer to keep her company. “I don’t enjoy seeing you leave either…,” Rhaella admitted and smiled when she saw the crown she had worn on her wedding day.

It was a delicate silver band engraved with ancient runes.

“Oh, look what I have found!” she prodded quickly and her granddaughter drew closer.

“What is it that you found, grandmother?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“My crown,” Rhaella explained and picked the crown from the strongbox before placing it atop Alysanne’s brown curls. Usually, she wore her hair in a tight braid, but today it was open and falling all the way down to her waist. She looked much like her mother, but when she smiled she looked a bit like Rhaella’s late mother. “I forgot I put it here …it suits you well, sweetling.”

Alysanne smiled, a seldom thing, and put her hands atop her head to touch the silver circle.

“It is cold,” she said suddenly, her lips turning downwards. Then, she removed the crown from her head and cradled it in her slender hands. “Cold and dead.”

A moment later, she handed the crown back to Rhaella, her hands trembling. “And it smells of blood…I don’t want it, grandmother.”

Rhaella didn’t know what to make of these foreboding words and placed the crown back into her lap. “Of course, you don’t have to, sweetling. I just thought it would look pretty on you.”

“Pretty can mean deadly,” her granddaughter replied and stretched out her hands, before walking towards the door. She knew her way well, but Rhaella wouldn’t take any risks. She waved her hand at the guardsman and told him to escort her granddaughter downstairs.

When she was gone Rhaella, put the crown back where it belonged and climbed down the steps to find her nephew Aemon seated at the window with Alysanne beside him.

Rhaella couldn’t help but to smile when she saw him. He had announced his coming, but she hadn’t expected him to arrive so quickly.

She had also missed him dearly.

And seeing these two next to each other, made her even more aware that Alysanne needed to leave, to see, no to experience more of the world.

“You look well, grandmother,” Aemon greeted warmly and rose to his feet, before embracing her and placing a kiss on each of her cheeks. “You have barely changed.”

Rhaella patted his cheek. ”And you are a terrible liar. My back hurts and my hair is grey. But it is good to see that you are getting taller. That is always a good thing for a young man like you. I am just a little sad that you didn’t bring my daughter and son with you.”

“Daenerys is busy making friends with the ladies at court,” Aemon said and handed her a letter. “But she gave me this letter for you and Viserys…Well, he is occupied.”

“So I heard,” Rhaella agreed. “And you came to get your sister, didn’t you?”

Aemon nodded his head. “That is what I came for…and to distract myself. Gaemon is feeling better, but I do not enjoy court as much as I used to.”

“Then, you should come back to Dragonstone when the crowning ceremony is done. Bring Daenerys with you…I want to hear about her life and her lessons. She writes too little.”

“I shall,” Aemon promised and squeezed her arm. “But tonight we shall take supper together. What do you say, grandmother?”

Rhaella was pleased to have her grandson for herself. It was a seldom occurrence.”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Alysanne said almost cheerfully. “Then, I can show Aemon the new tricks _Storm _learned.”

Later that evening, Alysanne did indeed show her precious bird to Aemon before her returned to take supper in her company.

They broke their fast on fresh salmon, covered with white sauce and mint. Afterwards they also had a cake covered with white cream and nuts. Aemon seemed to enjoy that particularly and easily drowned two cups of wine.

It was a bit too much for her liking, but she allowed it this time, for he must have gone through hell and back in the last weeks. At least, that was her impression and probably the reason he wanted to speak alone with her.

“You came for a reason,” Rhaella said. “You didn’t just agree to get Alysanne because you are a good brother, didn’t you?”

“No,” Aemon said and played with his cup. “I wanted to speak with you…I want your opinion. Father thinks the Martells had nothing to do with all that had happened, because Prince Doran was the one that had exiled Ser Gerold Dayne and someone is _supposedly_ trying to blame the incident on them.”

“My opinion hardly counts,” Rhaella began, but Aemon cut her off.

“I still want to hear your opinion,” Aemon insisted and searched her face. “What do you think, grandmother?”

Rhaella sucked in a deep breath before she spoke. “I agree with your father’s view. I admit, I do not know Prince Doran well, but he doesn’t strike me as an incompetent man. If he wanted Gaemon dead he would act with much more skill. Whoever did this, made a mistake in using Ser Gerold Dayne. Perhaps, it was intentional or perhaps it was just a mistake, but I do not think that the Martells had a hand in this incident and I think you should keep such thoughts to yourself. You don’t want to endanger your relationship with, Aegon, don’t you?”

“I don’t want that,” Aemon said and averted his gaze in shame. “But my brother was nearly killed and all father and mother demand is that _this_ man is being send to the Night’s Watch.”

Rhaella understood his anger, but Aemon was not the King. “Perhaps your father did it to show mercy to Ser Arthur’s family. Ser Gerold is after all his cousin.”

“He deserves a far worse fate,” Aemon insisted and rose to his feet. In the same breath he had rushed to the window and only turned around when Rhaella rose to her feet and touched his shoulders. “He deserves to die.”

“I thought the same about Aerys,” Rhaella admitted and squeezed his shoulder. ”But when Rhaegar told me how he died, I felt only sadness. Sure, this Ser Gerold is only a stranger to you, but taking revenge is rarely as sweet as you imagine and it won’t help to remove the discord that already exists between you and the Martells.”

“I don’t hate on _them_, they hate _me_,” Aemon threw back. “And I won’t allow them to harm my siblings and mother. Tis is a promise.”

Rhaella didn’t know what to say. He was just angry, she knew and this was his only way express himself, but this were dangerous thoughts he was voicing.

“Aegon loves his family as much as you love yours, sweetling,” she told him and patted his cheek. “And if there is one thing that I have learned in my long life, then it is this: hatred is worse than poison, for it can seed doubts where there was once kindness. Do not let it get to you…I know what I am talking about.”

Aemon averted his gaze and whispered. “I will try, grandmother.”

…


	30. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys could only marvel on how much her siblings had changed. It had been nearly more than a year that she had last laid eyes on them and it seemed as if they had grown by nearly a head or two.

“Rhae!” Gaemon exclaimed and was the first one to hop into her arms. His smile was as bright as Aegon’s. “Rhae!”

Rhaenys gathered him up in his arms and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“My, you have grown!” she said and smoothed his silver hair. “I can scarcely believe it.”

“It is true!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I have grown, haven’t I?”

“He is lying,” Alysanne added jestingly, as she walked on Daenerys’s arm. “He hasn’t grown at all.”

“And you are as blunt as ever, sister,” Rhaenys remarked and took in Alysanne’s changed appearance. She usually wore drab grey dresses and kept her hair in strict braids, but today she wore a light blue dress, a pale scarf and her brown hair was held atop her head with silver hairnet. “But you have most definitely grown.”

Alysanne smiled and stretched out her hand towards Rhaenys. She returned the gesture and squeezed her hand. “And it is good to be here.”

Rhaenys nodded her head and waved her hand at Willas, who had watched their exchange in polite silence. He had to walk on a crutch and that usually embarrassed him, but Alysanne was blind and wouldn’t care about such things.

“Alysanne,” she said and touched her sister’s shoulder, leading her hand towards Willias. “May I introduce my husband, Lord Willas Tyrell.”

Willas lifted her sister’s hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.”

“What about me?” asked Gaemon, demanding her attention. “What about me?”

“Of course,” Rhaenys was quick to add and smiled at him. “I am sure Willas is pleased to meet you.”

“Of course, my young Prince,” Willas said cheerfully and dipped his head in greeting. “Forgive my negligence, but in the Reach we greet ladies first. _Beauty before youth_, as they say.”

“Well, then you got it wrong, my Lord,” Gaemon corrected Willas. “My sister is older.”

“As if that means anything,” Alysanne added and rolled her eyes. “You are still shorter than me.”

“Only a handful of inches!” Gaemon hissed and would have probably started to quarrel if Aemon and Aegon hadn’t joined them.

Aegon and Aemon had already dressed in courtly fashion: a silken tunic, dark breeches, polished boots and each a crimson cloak. Rhaenys herself had chosen a fine dress made of red silk and long black sleeves. It reminded her of the wings of a dragon, but perhaps that was only fitting. Like her brothers she had a dragon egg and often enough she wished they would hatch.

The Tyells treated her well, but she hadn’t failed to notice that the servant girls were constantly watching if her sheets were soiled with blood every passing moon turn. If she had a real dragon they would think twice in treating her with such disrespect. She knew her duties, but she was more than a womb to bear heirs.

“You are going to grow in good time, brother,” Aegon assured him kindly and patted his shoulder. “I wasn’t very tall when I was your age and look at me now. I am nearly as tall as father.”

Gaemon beamed.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Aegon confirmed and made his way towards Alysanne to enclose her in a warm embrace.

“You look very pretty, little sister,” he replied and shifted his attention to Daenerys. “And you too, Aunt.”

Daenerys returned his hesitant smile, her violet gaze darting to Aemon.

“You look well, Aegon,” Daenerys said. “Like your brother.”

Aegon nodded his head and brushed his hand over his cloak. He looked so strange with cut hair. It made his features appear sharper and older.

“We should go,” Aegon said. “We should go…they are waiting for us.”

…

The entire court had been assembled to pay witness to Queen Lyanna’s crowning, but it was nothing compared to what one would normally expect. A real crowning would usually include grand festivities, fairs and even a tourney, but according to their father Lyanna had refused it.

A simple ceremony, she had asked for and a simple ceremony she had been granted. Yet, Rhaenys couldn’t say if it was the right choice or not. Lady Lyanna’s reputation was not good, but either way people would have probably held it against her. If she had demanded a big ceremony people would have called her a wasteful whore and now they were probably calling her a greedy whore. Well, the same, mostly jealous folk, had said similar unseemly things about her mother.

_The Barren Queen. The Dornish Whore. The Sickly Queen. _

Many such ill-suited names had been ascribed to her by lords and ladies that had envied her for her position. Lady Lyanna will surely have the same experiences and won’t have it any easier.

“My mother is nervous,” Aemon said beside Rhaenys, holding unto her’s and Daenerys’ arm. “And the pit of vipers is already whispering.”

Rhaenys swallowed hard and shifted her attention back to ‘the pit of vipers’ as her brother liked to refer to her father’s court.

Rhaenys couldn’t help but to agree. Most lords and ladies coming here were bootlickers and flatterers.

The Small Council was better. Her father had chosen wisely when he had appointed these men to their positions, but even these men had their failures.

There was Lord Jon Connington, _the Bloody Hand_, who stood beneath the dais, a fox-pelt wrapped around his shoulders. His hair fitted his name well, as it was as red as blood, but it was showing its first grey streaks. Rhaenys had never known what to make of him.

He was a cold and ruthless man, but his father valued him beyond measure.

_I suppose every King needs a shadow_, she mused and wondered who her brother’s shadow would be.

_Aemon_, was the first person came to her mind, but she wanted more for him. Being a shadow was a sad position to be in.

Next to Lord Jon Conninton stood Ser Richard Lonmouth, her father’s Master of Whisperers. He was tall man with a sharp face and brownish hair that had long turned grey, but his smile was as piercing as ever. He was a pleasant man and was wed to Lady Ashara Dayne, who had remained behind to birth their second child, something they had long hoped for.

The rest of the King’s Council stood a bit further behind: Lord Monford, the Master of Ships. Lord Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Laws, Grand Maester Theobald and Lord Kevan Lannister, the Master of Coin.

None of them smiled, but that was no surprise. Some of them, had suggested for her father to take another wife, but he had refused them all, dashing all their hopes of seeing their daughter’s wed to the King.

“Your mother survived worse,” Rhaenys whispered and gave Aemon an assuring smile. “Yours will also survive the ‘the pit of vipers’.”

Aemon said nothing as they watched the High Septon, a stocky and pock-faced man shining robes, bless the new Queen.

_New Queen_, she thought as a hint of displeasure washed over her. It was unworthy of her to think like that, but Rhaenys couldn’t help it…

Lady Lyanna looked healthier than her mother had ever been. And beautiful too.

Her silver dress suited her well and her long brown hair was unbraided, falling freely all the way down her back.

Even so, the Lady was trembling and didn’t move when the High Septon addressed her. Only when her father leaned closer to say something to her, did she finally move and returned the High Septon’s words.

She had to swear by the Stranger, Maiden, Crone, Warrior, Mother and Father, not her gods, but she did it without hesitation and with only a faint stutter apparent in her voice.

When, this was done, she had to kneel and the High Septon placed a silver circlet atop her head before giving another handful of blessings.

“Behold,” her father said and smiled. “The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!”

It was a warm smile, a true smile, a seldom sight.

It filled her with a mixture of happiness and anger.

_Perhaps that is how it was meant to be_, she thought and tightened her grip on Willas’ arm.

The answer came promptly. “Long live the Queen!”

…


	31. Viserys

**Viserys**

A salty breeze fluttered over the ship that was gliding through the green-blue waves. Above a handful of sea gulls were flying circles while the shiphands were attending to their business.

The sails were up and the strong current was driving them further away from home, from Westeros.

Viserys had wed his lady barely two weekturns ago at Saltpans, before they had boarded _the Sweet Lady_, a galley that was painted all green from the top of the mast all the way to the prow that was carved in the form of a sea dragon.

By now, his brother and King must have heard of his actions and was probably cursing him, though Viserys had no doubt he would eventually forgive. Rhaegar may hold a grudge for a moon or two, but his heart would soften with time.

_You did the same_, he had considered as a counter-argument, but then his brother’s envelopment between his brother and Lady Lyanna had been very different. Lady Ysilla had neither been promised to another man nor had she been abducted on a King’s command.

In truth, Viserys hadn’t even planned on doing it this way, but Ysilla was convinced that even going to her father wouldn’t have been enough changed his mind about their marriage.

Now, as he saw his home drifting further away, he felt doubt, but also happiness…almost giddy happiness at times.

Truly, he was a fool, a fool in love.

_Mother will be most displeased_, he realized as he climbed down the steps to his cabin, where he found Ysilla grouching over a bucket.

Both she and Viserys had been stricken by a bout of sea-sickness, but while Viserys had by now gotten accustomed to the constant motion of the ship Ysilla wasn’t so lucky.

Her cheeks were incredibly pale, as she lifted her head from the bucket and brushed a clean cloth over her mouth.

Viserys offered her wine from his flask, but she drank not more than a handful of gulps.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked softly as he knelt in front of her and touched her shoulders. “Your cheeks are pale and you haven’t eaten anything all day. I could get you some broth?”

“I am not hungry,” she told him and picked the flask from his hand to take another quick gulp. It was sweet summerwine and some of it ran down her chin only to spill unto her dark dress. She was smiling softly. “I have something else in mind. We should try consummating our marriage again.”

Viserys shook his head in disbelief and touched her cheek. “You have been puking out your guts out for days…,” he trailed off.

“Even more reason to finally do it again,” she told him almost eagerly and threw her shawl from her shoulders before starting to pull on the bindings of her dress. Within the blink of a moment, the buttons were undone and she was sliding down her shift, leaving her only smallclothes and stockings. “It has already been two weekturns…and I want to try again.”

It was true what she had said. They had done it on the night after the wedding, but it hadn’t been particularly spectacular. It had been two years that he had last bedded a girl and there was a huge difference between bedding a whore and a real lady. With whore he hadn’t cared to please them, but with his wife it was different.

Not that Ysilla had openly complained about his clumsy fumbling, but he doubted she was particularly impressed by perfomance.

“Are you sure?” Viserys asked again and tried his best to ignore her shapely bosom. “Do you think would make you feel better?”

She smiled and slipped off the rest of her clothing, leaving her completely naked. Then, she stepped into his embrace and started to fumble with the bindings of his breeches.

The familiar feeling of pleasure settled between his legs, as her hands brushed over his cheeks and her mouth met his, the taste of her kiss sweet like the summerwine she had consumed.

This, time it was no quick fumbling, but a slow exploration. Viserys could take his time and touched her properly, first her breasts and then between her legs.

She seemed to like that, but she returned the favor in equal measure. Viserys had always imagined proper ladies to be shy, but his young wife had no such inhibitions. She touched him as eagerly as he her and soon he had to hold her back, least this would return “mere clumsy fumbling.”

“Can I be on top this time?” Ysilla asked after she had withdrawn from his heated kisses. “I think it might be more pleasant that way.”

Viserys nodded his head and pulled her into his lap, the evidence of his pleasure quite visible. If she was bothered by it, it didn’t show on her face, though her cheeks were no longer pale, but flushed, as she settled upon him.

This time, there was no pain, even a slight chuckle spilling from her lips. In fact, Ysilla was still laughing until Viserys pressed his lips against hers to stifle it.

When they were done, Viserys felt properly exhausted, his cheeks covered with sweat due to the stifling heat.

It was another sign that they were getting closer to the Free Cities and further away from home.

It made Viserys feel strangely melancholic.

He already missed Daenerys and her silly japes and his mother’s soft smiles. He was a man grown, but it was harder than anticipated.

“When do you think will we be able to return?” Viserys asked Ysilla as he watched her stretch her alethic legs.

He had learned by now that Lady Ysilla was more than met the eye. She was not only a pretty girl, but she was also an accomplished rider and seemed to hold an odd interest in foreign lands.

Unlike, Viserys she seemed very excited to leave Westeros behind and was constantly telling him about all the foreign lands they would see.

Again, she gave him this confused look that she always carried when he was speaking of home.

“Why would you want to go home? We have barely left.”

Viserys sat up and pulled the bedding around his waist. “I worry about my brother and my mother. They will be very upset. And I miss them…Do you not miss your family?”

“I will miss them,” she confirmed and pulled her knees to her chest. “But now I am free. You are a boy….you don’t know how it is to be the only daughter of a high lord. They expect so much of me. It is suffocating.”

Viserys had never realized that she had felt that way. This was the first time she had voiced such thoughts.

“I understand,” Viserys said and leaned closer. “But I thought the plan was to return? You said a year at most.”

Guilt shone in her eyes. “I want that too…But I am also excited to leave. I love my father, but ever since I got my moon blood my father stopped treating me like a person, but a tool to rule the Vale. He is so fixated on Harry that he doesn’t want to see what kind of a person he is. That was part of the reason I came up with this plan. Once we have a child he won’t be able to undo this.”

Viserys nodded his head. “But he might send men after us.”

“He won’t find us,” Ysilla replied and touched his painted black hair. “Nobody knows who we are. We are free.”

Then, she learned closer to place a kiss on his cheeks. It was an intoxicating feeling that overwhelmed.

As a young boy he had scoffed at his brother’s odd infatuation with his second wife, but now he was beginning to understand what had driven him so far.

Love was like a maddening poison, sweet and bitter at once. Sweet for the pleasure it brought and bitter for the grudge bring forth in others.

“Aye, we are free,” Viserys added and returned her kiss. _For now._

…


	32. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna watched with growing tension as Lord Royce continued to glower at his King. His son appeared less serious, but was a giant like his father, easily looming over most knights at court.

Rhaegar, who had read the letter in his lap over and over again, finally folded the paper and lifted his head to look at Lord Royce.

“There is no doubt about it,” Rhaegar said. “This letter has been written by my brother’s hand.”

“My sister also wrote a letter,” Ser Andar Royce said. “She claims that she went willingly and that she got wed by the blessing of the Faith. The man who brought the letter said that he came from Saltpans. Father has already dispatched men to find the Septon to confirm the tale, but that will at least take several weeks.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Jon Connington said. “I doubt this marriage can be undone. Prince Viserys and your sister have most likely consummated their union by now.”

Ser Andar Royce looked as he wanted to strangle the Hand of he King. Rhaegar seemed to recognize this and waved his hand at his old friend.

“Jon,” Rhaegar said in a firm tone. “I think we are all aware of that.”

Lyanna stifled a laugh when she noticed the starteled expression on Jon Connington’s face.

“Of course, your Grace.”

“The Hand of the King speaks true,” Lord Yohn Royce added glumly. “This madness cannot be undone. Her future is ruined…my plans are ruined.”

Lyanna, who had been hiding in the shadows, stepped forward in that moment to reveal her presence, though she had no doubt that they had seen her lingering there.

She had yet to get used to move around freely, in proper finery and with a crown atop her head, though the silver band engraved with blue roses couldn’t have been any more beautiful to look upon.

Lord Royce didn’t seem pleased by her presence, but Lyanna tried to overplay her discomfort with a smile.

That was the first thing she had learned after coming here, namely that smiling was a remedy to all things in King’s Landing, whether it was hostility, flattery or enmity.

“You said that Lady Ysilla’s future is ruined, Lord Royce,” Lyanna pointed out politely. “But Viserys is no nobody. He is a Prince of the Realm and the future Lord Harrenhall. Apart from that, he is also a confidant of the King. The way I see it, your daughter made a good match.”

Lord Royce silence was all she needed to know. The fact that he was blatantly ignoring her angered her only more.

“Even so, I had other plans for _my _daughter, your Grace. I told you my wishes.”

“What about her wishes?” Lyanna asked. “She…,” she was about to continue, but Rhaegar’s shaking head silenced her.

“What Lyanna is trying to say is that Lady Ysilla clearly favors my brother over the bridegroom you desired for her,” Rhaegar replied diplomatically. “I never held any objection to a potential marriage between Lord Hardygn and Lady Ysilla, but then there were some in the Vale who clearly objected against it. Lord Jon Arryn himself voiced doubts about this match and there are others who claim that you are backing Harry in hopes he will succeed young Robin Arryn as the heir to the Vale. Perhaps, this will be more of a blessing than…,” he began, but Lord Royce gruff tone startled even Rhaegar.

“This isn’t for the lack of status of the bridegroom, your Grace,” Lord Royce grumbled, his grey eyes flickering to Lyanna. “This is about _honor_. I do not know what practices you have in the North, but in the Vale we educate our children to be obedient to their elders. My daughter was well-loved and always got everything her heart desired. And in exchange I expected her to wed as she is told, but instead she ran away like some common whore. I know this will be painful for his Grace, but I want Prince Viserys found and punished. I deserve so much satisfaction.”

Rhaegar’s demeanor changed within the blink of a moment. Suddenly, there was something cold and dangerous glinting in his eyes.

“What do you want me to do, Lord Royce? Drag my brother back in chains and have him gelded like a common criminal?”

“Nothing so drastic, your Grace,” Ser Andar Royce replied and touched his father’s shoulder. “But the Night’s Watch would be possibility. It would also free my sister from her marriage vows to him and everything would be back in order.”

Rhaegar said nothing for a long time, so shocked he appeared by this proposal. She felt the same way, but she doubted Lord Royce would care for her opinion.

She was just a ghost and probably a whore to these men.

“Tis is insulting,” Rhaegar replied unusually bluntly. “I shall send men to find my brother and to bring him back. I shall also offer a generous dowery to make up for your inconvenience…,” he began, but Lord Royce interrupted Rhaegar again.

He was a stubborn man, but nobody could call him a coward.

Even Ser Barristan, who had been standing guard beside the throne, dropped his hand to the pommel of his sword.

“Tis is no mere inconvenience, your Grace,” Lord Royce grumbled. “Tis is a matter of pride. Prince Viserys disrespected me and I want him punished. I shall do the same with my daughter.”

“And what if a child comes of this union?” Lyanna asked. “Have you considered such a possibility, Lord Royce?”

“Any child of my daughter shall be treated well,” Lord Royce replied icily. “I am no monster, but I want to see justice done. If someone disobeys the rules they need to the punished. It is simple as that, _your Grace_.”

Lyanna felt as if he was not only speaking about his daughter, but that he was also speaking about her.

“That is quite enough, Lord Royce,” Rhaegar said in an iron tone. “And I understand your hurt feelings. If my children disobeyed I would punish them as well, but taking away my brother’s freedom for lawfully wedding a highborn lady that was neither promised nor forcefully taken is not a crime. All I can offer is what I promised before: a generous dowery and an apology.”

By now, Lord Royce was trembling from head to toe, no word leaving his mouth. It seemed his anger made it impossible for him to speak.

“Father,” Ser Andar Royce said. “Perhaps we look at this matter from a different side…her son will be a Prince…,” he began, but Lord Royce silenced his son with a sharp look.

“Prince or not,” Lord Royce replied. “My daughter is dead to me. I shall not welcome here back.”

He threw one last glance at the King and lowered his head. “I shall take my leave now, your Grace. If you are changing your mind, write to me at once. If not, then please leave me at peace.”

“What a disrespectful man, your Grace,” Jon Conninton remarked coldly. “How could you allow him to leave like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Rhaegar asked sarcastically. “Throw him into the Black Cells? I understand his anger. What was Viserys thinking lying to me like that?”

“Love is poison, your Grace,” Jon Connington said in a somber tone. “And young pretty girls with dazzling smiles even more so. Still, that does not excuse the disrespect that was shown to you. You shouldn’t allow this.”

“You will leave Royce at peace,” Rhaegar said and leaned on his balled fist. “More important is to find Viserys and his lady. I won’t have my brother live in Essos like a common exile. My mother will never forgive me. Once, he is back I shall decide on a punishment for him, but certainly no Night’s Watch. I won’t make the girl a widow within a year from her marriage.”

“Viserys will be thankful,” Lyanna said win relief. “You did the right thing.”

“Did I?” Rhaegar asked and gave her a doubtful look. “I think not. Tis is no decision of a King, but a decision of a brother.”

“A good decision,” Lyanna insisted and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Your mother will be thankful.”

“I know,” Rhaegar said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I know.”

“Who shall be tasked with finding Prince Viserys?”

Rhaegar sighed and pondered the question briefly. “Richard is my Master of Whisperers. I shall put him to work at once.”

Lord Connington nodded his head in agreement.

“A good idea, your Grace.”

…


	33. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

**S**he was riding him, his fingernails leaving marks on her hip as she felt him deep inside her. The only noise was the sound of their gaps and their laughter.

She had been dressing when he had come to her form his training, all sweaty and slightly bruised around his eye.

Her nephew had always liked to exhaust himself at the practice yard, but today it seemed his playmates hadn’t satisfied him or perhaps it was only the rage he felt about the misfortune that had befallen his little brother. He had calmed his temper and the perpetrator had been caught, but that was surely no comfort to Lady Lyanna or Aemon. His brother’s ear had been cleaved off and now he would not be able to hear again on this side of the ear…

She opened her eyes for a brief moment, taking in the blue bruise spreading around Aemon’s eye.

His dark eyes were closed and his hand darted to her breast, squeezing softly.

His touch sent a jolt of pleasure down her body and made her shudder.

She was close, a familiar tingle washing down from the top of her head all the way down to the ache between her legs.

She was close.

_Just a little_, she thought and swerved her hips faster. _ Just a little further._

Another quick swerve of her hips was enough and Aemon sat up to pull her into a heated kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth.

By now, he was breathing heavily and when she made another quick movement, he gasped and grabbed her hips, his fingernails digging deep into her behind.

Dany gave a high-pitched moan and held tight unto his shoulder. He trust into her in quick succession, which finally sent her over the edge.

A loud gasp escaped her when he pulled out of her and spilled unto the bedding.

When Dany had regained her composure, she was breathing heavily and searched for Aemon’s face.

He was lying on his side, his pale face framed by his long brown hair.

The bedding was ruined, but then that wasn’t the first time they had done this.

In the last moons, they had tried their best to practice whenever they found time to do so.

Yet, she couldn’t drink moon tea every day, but now that Aemon had gotten the hang of it, they could enjoy it much more.

“You lasted much longer than last time,” she jested and slapped his shoulder in a playful manner.

Aemon opened his eyes, his dark orbs glittering with warmth.

“Did you count the time?” Aemon asked, an amused smile curling on his lips.

Dany chuckled and turned around to place her naked feed on the ground. Then, she leaned down and picked up her dress and smallclothes.

First, she pulled on her smallclothes, followed by her stockings and dress.

When she was done, she noticed that Aemon had already put on his tunic and breeches, his hair still sweaty and in disarray.

“You need a bath,” Dany told him with a smile and smoothed out her knotted hair. Aemon nephew had loosened it from its braid. “And I am in dire need of a brush.”

Aemon quickly grabbed her hip and pulled her closer.

“Turn around,” he ordered after another chuckle had escaped her lips. “And I shall take care of your hair.”

Dany thought he was jesting, but she obeyed and wanted to see what he could do.

“Very well,” Dany agreed and sat down atop the bed, her back turned to Aemon. “But I don’t have much time. Make it quick.”

“I am good at this,” Aemon assured her and brushed his hand through her long strands of silver hair. By now they were nearly reaching her waist, but Aemon didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Not long after, he had loosened all knots and was starting to pull her hair into a tight braid.

When he had finished his work, he asked for the ribbon that had held her braid together.

“Well done,” Dany complimented when she took a look at herself in the mirror. “I wasn’t aware that you have such hidden talents?”

Aemon shrugged his shoulders and started to pull on his boots.

“I have a little sister, who can’t see. Alys made me braid it when the servant girls annoyed her.”

Dany had lived at Dragonstone half her life, but she had never seen Aemon braid hair.

“Were you doing that in secret?”

“Aye,” Aemon said, his cheeks slightly flushed. “I asked Alys not to tell anyone.”

That was probably the silliest answer she had ever heard, but it made sense.

“You boys are too proud for your own good!” she snapped at him and brushed her braid over her shoulder. “I would have put you to that task more often if I had known about your hidden talents.”

Aemon frowned at that. “I am a Prince, not a maid.”

Dany chuckled and touched his blooming bruise. “But you are rather good at it.”

Then, she searched his face. “And who gave you this, I wonder?”

“Daemon,” he grumbled back. “I was distracted by something. Well, I paid him back.”

Dany was not surprised and brushed away his hands from her waist.

“You ought to visit your brother instead of blooding your _friends_,” she told him and kissed his bruise.”

“Daemon is no _friend_ of mine,” Aemon replied softly, his voice laced with hidden anger. “And neither is Drinkwater.”

Dany said nothing to that. Dorne was an untouchable topic since Gaemon had suffered this unfortunate incident.

She knew Aemon would need time to get over it.

Thus, she sighed softly and smiled at him. “I shall go and attend to your mother.”

Aemon nodded his head and placed a last kiss on her hand. “I am sure my mother will be pleased to get support. All these noble ladies…it must be a nightmare for her.”

“Not only for her,” Dany said. “I am not fond of these tea circles. They are usually rather boring, but Cersei Lannister is coming. I heard she is a rather interesting woman.”

“And I heard from Lord Tyrion that she is a rather hateful woman,” Aemon pointed out. “And if Joff is any indication to go by…Well, I would prefer for her to stay far away in Casterly Rock. “

Dany shook her head and clucked her tongue as went to the door. There she stopped and graced him with a last smile. “Well, Lady Myrcella is sweet and kind. Gaemon seems to like her.”

Aemon rolled his eyes. “She is pretty and Gaemon likes everyone who shows him attention.”

With these last words, she had left Aemon’s chambers behind her and returned to her own chamber, where she changed into a finer dress and put some lavender incense on her lilac dress.

She had no time for a bath.

When, she entered the solar, she noticed that Lyanna was already surrounded by two important ladies of the realm. There was Lady Alerie Tyrell, an elderly woman with silver hair and golden eyes, Lady Lysa Arryn, daughter of Hoster Tully and wife to the late Jon Arryn, who had passed away only a moon ago from some illness of the stomach. Yet, the woman hardly looked like a grieving widow, though she was clad completely in black.

Dany couldn’t fault her for it, though. She must have been fifteen when she had been wed to Jon Arryn, an idea that made Dany shudder. It made her all the happier that she would be wed to someone that was close to her age.

Lyanna looked surprisingly serene in their presence and wore a dream of white silk, accentuated with blue trimmings that were reminiscent of winter roses. She had even put on her crown of silver and blue gemstones, a seldom sight.

At times, it felt as if most people still thought her good-sister the wild girl that had ran off with her brother, but not a woman of nearly thirty namedays that had born three children.

That her brother had kept her hidden away for such a long time was probably another reason for this perception.

Well, Dany was glad to help her rid others of this perception and smiled when she noticed that her good-sister looking at him.

She had of course brought her ladies. There was also Lady Myrcella and Lady Allyria Dayne, who were seated beside her.

“Ah, Daenerys,” her good-sister said and patted at the place next to her. Once, she was seated she waved her hand at Lady Lysa, whom Dany had never met before. “This is Lady Lysa Arryn.”

“A pleasure,” Dany replied politely and shifted her attention to the table covered with cakes and cups of tea. “And you have my heartfelt compassion. I heard your husband was a good man.”

“Jon was truly an honorable man,” the Lady replied quietly and dipped her head. “I miss him every day and my poor Robin, my sweet poor Robin, he is now a fatherless boy.”

_And sickly_, she had heard. Dany’s heart went out to the poor woman. She had heard enough about the loss of her brothers and sister from her dear mother, to know that losing a child was a terrible thing indeed.

“Then, I hope he will grow up to be a strong and powerful, lord,” Dany replied and graced the Lady with a heartfelt smile.

“Indeed,” Lady Alerie agreed. “Mayhaps you should come to the Reach to pay us a visit, my Lady Arryn. I heard days of sunshine will do wonders to ease a child’s heart. Perhaps, he might also be interested in meeting my lovely children and their cousins. They would spoil him rotten, I am sure of it.”

Lady Arryn didn’t look as if she shared Lady Alerie’s opinion in that matter.

“Mayhaps we should speak about something more uplifting, my Ladies,” Lady Myrcella added cheerfully as ever. “I heard your brother Lord Edmure will soon be wed again, a certain Lady Mallister. Is that true?”

Lysa Arryn gave the girl a startled look, as if she did not quite know what to make of that question. It seemed she had no idea that her brother was being wed.

“Ah, yes. It will be good for Edmure to be wed again. His daughter will surely be pleased to have a mother.”

Dany wasn’t so sure of that. The girl was nearly elven namedays old and the bride was only ten and five. Nobody wanted a mother of the same age.

“I am sure Lady Minisa will be pleased,” Lady Lyanna agreed. “What about you, my Lady? You are still young. I am sure you thought of re-marrying again. A handsome Lord of the Vale perhaps? I am sure they are courting you left and right, though all that has to be done in a reasonable grieving period, no?”

Dany was surprised how easily Lady Lyanna had delivered these lines. She had almost sounded like her Lady Mother.

You trained her well, mother, she thought and brought the cup to her lips. The tea was hot and sweet and she soon put the cup away again and took a bite from the lemon cake.

“I have someone in mind,” Lady Lysa replied. “A very handsome lord.”

Lady Alerie’s lips curled up into a warm smile. “Would you tell us about it, my Lady?”

“I cannot,” Lady Lysa replied overly sweetly. “But you will hear of it soon enough, after a grieving period…as her Grace said.”

Then, she turned her head to wave her hand at one of her servant girls that was seated at among the other servants, slightly concealed by a drape.

“Speaking about and more uplifting topic,” Lady Lysa explained and whispered a quick command into the girls ears, who nodded her head and darted off to retrieve something. “I have brought a fine gift. My husband liked this kind of wine. Fine Arbor gold. We already drank five of the dozens of bottles we were gifted. I brought two. Would you care to taste some of it?”

Dany was thankful for that and gave Lady Lyanna a hopeful smile. She had enough of tea.

“Perhaps watered I could consume half a cup,” Lyanna told the Lady and smiled politely. “The Maester said more wouldn’t be good for the babe.”

“A wise advice,” Lady Alerie added sweetly. “I wanted to abstain altogether after Willas difficult birth, but the Maester said “Half a cup of Arbor gold keeps the Maester away!”

Dany chuckled at that. “Margaery told me that was something Lord Redwyne made up to promote his _precious _wine through the realm!”

Lady Alerie nodded her head in confirmation and leaned closer. “I suppose that is the case, but don’t tell him or he will be insulted.”

Dany nodded her head and was pleased when the servant girl not only brought the wine, but also a page boy carrying a tray with cups for each of them.

“A fine year,” Lady Alerie admired when she took a glimpse at the bottle and drank deeply. Dany did the same, though she put a bit more honey into her cup. “Truly, a generous gift.”

“Indeed,” Lady Myrcella giggled as she sipped on her watered cup. Lady Allyria refused, though. She happily drank her tea and cakes, though Lady Lysa seemed displeased by her refusal and was even glaring at the girl from the distance. “A worthy gift!”

“But only one cup,” Lyanna reminded Myrcella, who flashed an innocent smile at the Queen.

“I have not forgotten,” Lady Myrcella said. “I have not forgotten.”

Dany laughed and poured herself half another cup, the sweetness in her mouth changing to a sudden burning feeling, as if she had tasted peppers instead of honey.

A strange feeling of dizziness followed and Dany grabbed the table to steady herself.

A clinking sounded filled the air in that moment and Dany’s gaze immediately darted to her good-sister.

Lyanna had dropped the cup and started coughing, Lady Alerie beside her following suit.

Lady Lysa was doing the same, covering her mouth with her hand.

Dany tried to rise to her feet, but a wave of dizziness washed over her and her feet failed her.

Pain jolted through her knees when she hit the floor, her vision growing blurred.

The last thing, she recalled was vomiting out the her fast and darkness overwhelming her.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna and Dany are not dead.


	34. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

“Lyanna,“ Rhaegar’s sorrowful voice rung in her ears. She was shaking from head to toe, but out of weakness not anger. “Will you speak with me?”

Lyanna shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t dare to turn around. She feared that her façade might crumble at any moment and perhaps that was Rhaegar desired, something Lyanna was unable to give him.

He wanted that everything was back to normal, but that was not how she felt.

_It was wrong to crown myself_, she thought and felt her heart overflowing with sadness. _That is why all these terrible things have happened. It is my fault, all of it is my fault._

“Lyanna,” Rhaegar said and touched her shoulder gently, which prompted her to turn around. She couldn’t go on ignoring him. That would be unworthy of her. “Are you there?”

“I am here,” she told him and brushed away his hand. “My mind was just straying.”

“Where to?” Rhaegar asked. It was such a silly question to ask, but then she was sure that Rhaegar was as much as a loss of words as her. He too had lost a child, their sweet little girl. _Visenya_ had wanted to name her, after the Conqueror’s wife. “To a pleasant place?”

“No,” Lyanna replied and shook her head. She owed him so much honesty. Even so, she had wept enough. There was no point in shedding more. It wouldn’t bring back her child nor would it change their current situation. “I had much time to think…about the past and the present and the future. I want to go home.”

“I have been doing the same,” Rhaegar agreed and kissed her cheek, his arm coming around her, to pull her closer. Lyanna didn’t resist, though she had other things on her mind. “Mayhaps you should go back to Dragonstone until you are feeling better. Perhaps Daenerys could go with you? I am sure she would be pleased to stay with mother and Alysanne. She wasn’t affected so badly, but she would need time to recover.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Dragonstone,” Lyanna replied bluntly and didn’t dare to look at him. “I was thinking of Winterfell. I want to take Aemon and Alysanne to Winterfell. Gaemon…I think he would still prefer to go with Aegon to Oldtown. He is so excited about it and I do not want to take away his happiness. He has suffered enough.”

Rhaegar had frozen when she had said these swords, his hand dropping to his side. Lyanna didn’t dare to look at him, her hands curled in the bedding beneath her. She could tell by his silence that he was not pleased with her answer.

“Alysanne wouldn’t like it if you take her away from Dragonstone,” Rhaegar countered. “And you…you are not well. Your brother’s people might not be as welcoming as you think.”

“I couldn’t care less about a warm welcome,” Lyanna replied and turned to look at him. “I only want to go home and have my brother meet my children. It is high time I make peace with him. My brush with death made that clear to me and I am sure Ned will be pleased to meet them.”

“You honestly think that?” Rhaegar asked in disbelief. “He didn’t even come for your crowning.”

Lyanna leaned closer and grabbed his pale face between her two hands. “He is my brother and for all his stubbornness, he has reason to dislike me, as do my father’s bannermen. And that is why Aemon and Alysanne must come with me. It is easy for the Northemen glower at me from the distance, but when they meet my children, they might change their opinion.”

Rhaegar shook his head in displeasure and pushed her hands away. “You are not doing this to make peace with your brother, you are doing this for yourself. I think you are trying to run away from your duties.”

Lyanna felt as if he had dealt her a vicious blow, fresh tears burning in her eyes. Could he really be that dense and think so ill of her? Or was it true? Was she trying to run away? She couldn’t say, but at times she felt as if she was suffocating…she had hoped the peace of the godswood might give her the clarity she needed to return to her old self.

“You know me better than that, Rhaegar,” she threw back and tried to express her feelings. “But it has been more than fifteen years. I am not running away, I simply want to go home.”

“And I think you will hurt yourself only more,” Rhaegar told her in return and touched her cheek, his warm breath brushing over her lips. “Believe me.”

“Even so, that is my decision,” Lyanna insisted and tried to free herself from his grip. “And I am no fragile flower. I just want to go home, please. I gave up everything for you…a year is all that I ask for.”

“A year is too long,” Rhaegar protested and Lyanna exhaled deeply.

“It is want I need,” Lyanna insisted. “And if you don’t allow it, I will simply go without your permission. You cannot stop me.”

Rhaegar grimaced and backed away. He rose to his feet and started to pace around in her chamber. Then, he stopped abruptly and looked at her in a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Why are you doing this?” Rhaegar demanded to know and bridged the distance, keeling before her. What happened is terrible, but everything is as it…,” he was about to continue, but Lyanna could no longer sit still. All her suppressed emotions came bursting forth in that moment.

“Nothing is as it is supposed to be!” she threw back. “My son got crippled and my other son is filled with anger. Alysanne is speaking more to her bird than her own kind and you are trying to keep your angry lords at bay. I need time to work through _this_ and you need settle this difficult political situation.”

Rhaegar stared back at her in brooding silence. He looked almost like Aemon in that moment, though the color of his hair was the wrong shade and his face looked older.

“Is that your last word?” Rhaegar asked almost softly and searched her face.

Lyanna braced herself. “That is my last word.”

Rhaegar’s lips twisted. “No, it is too dangerous. I do not know who is responsible for all this chaos. I cannot trust the Northmen.”

“My countrymen,” Lyanna insisted and averted her gaze. Then, she sucked in a deep breath and brushed her tears away. “And my family. I don’t know whether the Dornish had a hand in this or if it was someone else, but I know that Ned would never harm me. My greatest mistake during the Rebellion was not to trust him and it cost my brother’s and father’s life….I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

Rhaegar exhaled deeply.

“I see,” Rhaegar said. “That is the real reason, isn’t it? You are blaming me.”

Lyanna said nothing. She was too exhausted and her head was throbbing.

“I am not.”

She couldn’t bare to look at him or her resolve may falter at any moment.

_No, I am blaming myself, you fool._

…


	35. Aegon

**Aegon**

“You must do something, your Grace,” Mace Tyrell said after he had recounted his Lady wife’s suffering through the poison she had consumed mere days ago. It had been Arbor Gold, a _supposed_ gift to Lady Lysa’s late husband, Lord Jon Arryn, who had perished not long ago by an illness of the stomach. “Your Queen was nearly killed and your child perished before it could draw its first breath. Not only that, my beloved wife, your own sister, Lady Myrcella and Lady Lysa have also been affected by this crime. Someone must be punished.”

His dark eyes moved ever slowly from each man until they came to rest on Aegon.

“What do you think, my son? Your sister perished, a Princess of the Realm. You are the Crown Prince and my heir. What do think I should do?”

Aegon was baffled by his father’s question. In the past, he would had never asked for his advice.

Was it because the wine had _supposedly_ been acquired from a Dornish merchant? His father had of course called upon this merchant, who had confirmed Lady Lysa’s words.

“I too think someone needs to be punished,” Aegon countered and tried to ignore the piercing looks of the other men in the room. “But this merchant could have lied. I do not trust his word.”

“It was a subtle kind of poison, wasn’t it?” Lord Tywin Lannister asked. He had arrived only a day ago to see his granddaughter and had spoken to father for several hours on the previous day. “Who else knows more about poisons than the Viper of Dorne?”

Aegon felt a burst of hatred for the man in front of him, but he wasn’t the only one who seemed to think like that. Lord Mace Tyrell looked also like he was lusting for blood, the blood of his family.

“Any capable Maester could have brewed this poison,” Aegon pointed out. “And the Lords of the Vale have just as much reason to dislike Queen Lyanna and my father, especially after my Uncle Viserys absconded with Lord Royce’s daughter. I say, your accusations are driven by mere bloodlust and not reason, my Lord.”

“And I say, you are blinded by affection for your kin,” Lord Tywin said and looked directly at Aegon. “My granddaughter was nearly killed and so was your Aunt. Your own half-sister perished, a mere babe. I am asking myself, are you a Dornish Prince or a Prince of House Targ…,” Lord Tywin was about to continue, but his father’s angry voice silenced him at once.

“That was unworthy of you, Lord Tywin !” his father shouted and slammed his hand on the polished table in front of him. “You will apologize at once to my son.”

Lord Tywin didn’t flinch as he dipped his head, his green eyes still fixed on Aegon.

“Forgive my harsh words,” Lord Tywin said. “I am just fretting about my granddaughter, as does Lord Tyrell about his wife and the King about the Queen.”

“What happened was a terrible thing,” Lord Stannis added and cleared his throat. “But these quarrels won’t serve anyone. The more important question is: What will we do now? Will we wage war on Dorne? Will we investigate further?”

“You are quite right, Lord Baratheon,” his father agreed. There was a deep sadness in his voice, as he lifted his head to look first at Aegon and then at Lord Stannis. “There will be no war, but I will ask Prince Doran to send his brother here. Until we know more, I shall remove all Dornishmen from court.”

Aegon couldn’t believe his ears, but he didn’t dare to speak up. He was after all a Prince of the Realm and one day he would have to depend on these men’s help.

He also wanted to shout at his father, but when Aegon saw his miserable expression, he realized that this decision pained him just as much as it pained Aegon.

“Father,” Aegon said after the others had left. “My Uncle…,” he began, but his father cut him off.

“Might be innocent. I know that is what you believe, but it doesn’t matter what you or I think,” his father explained. “When it only concerned Gaemon I was able to brush it aside, but the last incident affected two high lords of the realm and my own sister. Forgive me, I cannot stay silent or these men will lose their trust in me.”

“By making my Uncle your scapegoat?” Aegon asked in confusion.

His father grimaced. “Do you really think me capable of that, my son? No, Prince Doran will never send Prince Oberyn to me. The worst he would do is send him to Essos, not the worst kind of fate. Viserys seems to like it there well-enough.”

“But the likes of Lord Tywin and Lord Mace Tyrell will not be satisfied with that. They will ask for a war.”

“Mace might,” his father said and rose to his feet. Then, he drew closer and patted Aegon’s shoulder. “But Lord Tywin is smart enough to know that Dorne cannot be conquered. He wouldn’t waste his coin and armies on such a pointless war.”

“I still don’t like it,” Aegon said. “I think you should investigate further.”

“I shall,” his father promised him. “And now you ought to pay a visit to your Aunt and grandmother. I promised to send you to them.”

Aegon accepted his father’s words without protest and went to seek out his Aunt and Grandmother.

His Aunt had been lucky, but not Queen Lyanna’s babe. Lady Alerie, Lady Lysa and Lady Myrcella had also been lucky. Only Lady Allyria had been unaffected, because she held no taste for wine.

“I win again,” his Aunt said, her voice weak, but her smile as bright as ever. She was seated cross-legged in her bed and was playing a game of cyvasse again Aemon, who was had turned his head the moment he had heard Aegon’s entrance.

His grandmother, who was seated beside the window, had also lifted her head and smiled when she noticed Aegon.

“You may sit down, grandson,” she said and made place for him. “I shall leave you for a while.”

Aegon quickly pulled the chair towards the bed and took a glance at the game board.

Dany had indeed defeated Aemon.

“You look well, dear Aunt,” Aegon told her with a hint of a smile and took in her pale cheeks and tousled silver hair. “I bring greetings from, father.”

Aemon gave him a surprised look. “When did you see him?”

“I attended the meeting of the Small Council,” Aegon replied hesitatingly. “That is how I know.”

Aemon’s demeanor darkened. “And he didn’t even ask me to join.”

“Rhaegar might have wanted to spear you the pain,” Dany added softly and leaned over to squeeze his arm. “With your mother…,” she began, but Aemon didn’t return her gesture.

Instead he jumped to his feet and raised his voice. He was angry, his dark eyes burning like coals in a sizzeling brazier.

“How dare he keep me out of it?”

Aegon understood his anger, but there was no reason to shout at his Aunt’s sickbed.

“Lower your voice,” Aegon advised. “Someone might hear you.”

“I don’t care about them,” Aemon replied and met his gaze. “What did you have to plot with father?”

Aegon was shocked by his reaction and backed away. “What do you mean?”

“I mean to know what you and father were plotting in my absence. Is your Uncle going to join the Night’s Watch like Ser Gerold? I suppose he will be happier for it, now that he will have a country man at the Wall to warm his bed.”

“My Uncle didn’t…,” Aegon began, but Aemon cut him off.

“Your Uncle is a fucking poison master!” Aemon shouted at the top of his lungs and stepped closer. He looked like an angry bull ready to strike, but Dany’s touch on his shoulder, seemed to have a calming effect on him. “And you are still defending him.”

“I think you are forgetting yourself,” Aegon said as calmly as possible and rose to his feet. “Come and speak with me when you have calmed your temper.”

Aemon said nothing to that and sat back down, Dany’s violet gaze following after him as he left the room.

Aegon felt lost for the rest of the day and he eventually decided to seek out his father’s Queen.

He wanted to hear her views on this matter.

He knew that it had been a mistake, when he heard the shouts coming from the Queen’s chamber.

Even the guardsmen flanking the door, grimaced.

“I cannot bear to stay here! I want to go!” a high-pitched voice reached Aegon’s ear.

It was Lady Lyanna.

“You are the Queen!” he heard his father’s voice. “I gave you my thoughts…,” he was about to continue, but the answer was a loud thud, as if someone had thrown something against the wall.

A heartbeat later, the door opened and his father stepped out, his face flushed with displeasure.

“You are not supposed to be here,” his father told Aegon with a hint of frustration and pulled on his arm. “You better come with me.”

In passing, Aegon got a brief glimpse at Lady Lyanna, his father’s Queen. She was dressed in her rumpled night gown, her dark brown hair in complete disarray.

Her long face was gaunt and her eyes were red from tears.

His father said not much before he sent him back to his chambers, where he found Aemon waiting for him.

“You are back,” Aegon said in surprise and a bit flustered by the previous incident. “I think we should speak.”

Then, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Dany washed my ears,” he added apologetically and flexed his hand in an anxious manner. “I shouldn’t have said these things to you.”

“You were angry,” Aegon said and sat down across him. “I was angry too…about my mother. I suppose that is understandable.”

“Perhaps,” Aemon agreed unhappily. “But about your Uncle…what I said…I meant.”

“I know,” Aegon confirmed. “And I cannot deny the suspicions put against him, but I truly believe he has nothing to do with this.”

Aemon shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhaps, but that won’t change my mother’s suffering. Perhaps, we will know more in the future. Now tell me, what did father say? I suppose it concerned Prince Oberyn.”

“He wants my Uncle to come here,” Aegon gave him the truth. “But he will most likely hide away in Essos.”

Aemon said nothing to that either and shrugged his shoulders again. Aegon felt he was doing for his stake.

Aegon valued that more than gold.

“I am going to leave as well, but for the North,” Aemon whispered. “Mother needs to go home and I shall convince father to agree.”

Everything clicked into one place in that moment. That was what Lady Lyanna had quarreled over with his father.

“You should wait a while longer,” Aegon advised him. “Until Rhaenys arrives from the Reach. She might be able to help you convince, father.”

“I must do this on my own,” Aemon replied and shook his head. “I must do this on my own.”

…


	36. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Her good-daughter sat beside the window, her gaze resting on the distant horizon.

She was still clad in her nightgown. In fact, she hadn’t changed her gown in days, a stain of tea visible around the collar.

Her hair was worse. It was greasy, tattered and she refused to allow anyone, not even Rhaella, to brush it.

Rhaella had tried it over and over again, but every time she had asked her to leave.

Only Alysanne had been allowed in her presence, but her granddaughter had only sat with her mother, holding her hand in silence.

In that moment, Rhaella had realized that the girl had understood the need of her mother better than Rhaella, who has lost numerous children for very different reasons than her good-daughter.

But today was different. Rhaegar had come again. Rhaella hoped it might help to lift Lady Lyanna’s spirits, but now it seemed like a lost cause.

“Lyanna,” Rhaegar said and stepped closer. “Lyanna.”

Only when he was standing two steps before Lady Lyanna, did she finally turn her head to look at him.

Her skin were incredibly pale and her eyes rimmed with tears.

“Go away,” Lyanna told him rather bluntly and turned to Rhaella. “Why did you bring him? I don’t want to speak to anyone.”

Rhaella was at a loss of words.

“I thought it might help.”

“I told him what I want,” Lyanna told Rhaella and looked back at Rhaegar. “I told him what I need.”

Rhaella was baffled by her words and looked at Rhaegar, who had only eyes for Lyanna.

“This will only make it worse,” Rhaegar insisted softly and touched her shoulder. “And you know it, love.”

“I don’t care,” Lyanna hissed through gritted teeth and wound herself free from his grip. Suddenly, she was standing on her two feet and trembling as she moved. “I don’t care…I need to go home.”

“You are the Queen,” Rhaegar reminded her and stretched his hand towards her. “My Queen.”

“I never wanted to be,” she snapped back and fled from the room, clashing the door behind her.

“Well, that went worse than I expected,” Rhaella said and touched her son’s shoulder. “Forgive me, I should have known that she would react this way.”

“There is nothing to forgive, mother,” Rhaegar replied breathily and sat down in the chair Lyanna had occupied before him. Then, he brushed his hands over his head and lifted his gaze to Rhaella.

“What can I do, mother?”

“Nothing,” Rhaella replied. “There is nothing you can do but to give her time.”

“She is my Queen,” Rhaegar replied. “She has a responsibility.”

“She does,” Rhaella replied and agreed with Rhaegar on that account, but she also understood the pain of losing a child. “But pushing her won’t help the situation. She is a stubborn girl. You will drive her away only further.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Rhaegar said and exhaled deeply. “But I cannot give her what she wants.”

Rhaella nodded her head in confusion. “And that is what exactly if I may ask?”

“She wants to go home….North,” Rhaegar explained with a pained expression. “It is simply too dangerous.”

“I admit I do not know Lord Eddard Stark well,” Rhaella said and knelt down to take her son’s hands in her own. “But he doesn’t strike me as a man who would harm his own blood. He kept the peace for all these years. There is something else that bothers you, my son. Something you are not telling me…,” she trailed off.

Rhaegar exhaled deeply, his dark eyes filled with fear.

“I am afraid she will not come back.”

That explained it all.

“I don’t think that will be the case. She just needs time to recover. Your father never allowed me that, but then I never wed Aerys for love. That said…you are the King, but Lady Lyanna is a far more stubborn Lady than me. I think you should yield in this matter and allow her to go North.”

“And who will be Queen?” Rhaegar asked.

Rhaella sighed deeply. “I can take over her duties for the time being, but not forever. You have to understand that.”

Rhaegar smiled weakly and kissed her hands.

“I understand.”

“You are really going to stay, mother?” her daughter asked her later. She still had to keep to bed, but the Grand Maester allowed her to walk around for a full hour each day. Normally, Rhaella took her to the godswood, but today was a rainy day, an unpleasant wheather for a walk.

“I suppose that is the case,” Rhaella replied, though she had not told Rhaegar all of her reason. Another reason why she wanted to stay was Viserys. Rhaegar had recently tasked Ser Richard to find her son, but that could take moons, moons of waiting. The thought alone was enough to give Rhaella sleepless nights, but perhaps it will be good for her to distract her mind with work. “We will see whether Rhaegar will agree to Lady Lyanna’s request. He seems very torn about it.”

“It is understandable,” her daughter said softly and hopped out of bed, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders. “But a man could never understand how it feels to lose a child.”

Rhaella was surprised to hear such words from Daenerys’ mouth and gave her a curious look.

“Who told you such nonsense, child? Your father was a vain and cruel man, but he wept for every single one of his children.”

Daenerys lowered her head apologetically. ”I didn’t mean to insult you, mother.”

Rhaella sighed.

“I know what you heard of your father, but Aerys was not always mad and cruel. Long before he became my tormentor, he was only my foolish brother who couldn’t have the woman he wanted.”

“Lady Joanna Lannister,” Daenerys whispered and leaned closer to embrace her. “Viserys told me about it. She must have been a very beautiful woman…like Lady Myrcella.”

“She was kind too,” Rhaella replied. “And she enjoyed Aerys’ flattery, but she would have never agreed to become his mistress. She was a Lannister, proud and fierce. And Tywin would have murdered her if she ever stepped away from his bed. People used to say that there is nothing more terrible than Aerys’ wrath, but I know that there is nothing more terrible than Lord Tywin Lannister’s pride.”

Daenerys nodded her head in understanding.

“How could she love such a man?”

“I never asked her,” Rhaella replied. “But Lord Tywin was a better man through her presence. Her death made him very bitter.”

“I see,” Daenerys said. “What about you mother, did you love someone else?”

Rhaella was surprised to hear such a question from her daughter.

“I think you know who it is, dear child,” she replied with a knowing smile and leaned forward to search her daughter’s face. “But why are you asking me all these questions? Surely, there is a reason for it?”

“Viserys,” Daenerys replied. “You are angry with him, are you not?”

“Rhaegar’s actions brought us many problems,” Rhaella gave her the truth. “The Rebellion could have cost us everything and now your brother Viserys is following into his footsteps. Of course, I am disappointed, but do not think that I could ever stop loving your brother. He must have had his reasons and I shall keep an open mind until I have heard them.”

Daenerys said nothing to that. Her daughter’s smile told her everything she needed to know. She was pleased with the answer Rhaella had given her.

…


	37. Aemon

**Aemon**

He found his father seated beside the window, his harp resting in his lap. Beside him was a table and a cup of wine, but untouched as Aemon had noticed in passing.

His father’s mind must be elsewhere, for he had not even turned his head when Aemon had entered the room.

“Are you occupied, father?” Aemon asked politely and took a glimpse through the painted window. The world outside was cast in a golden glimmer, the people in the courtyard below like small ants, running back and fro to attend to their duties.

Watching them was a habit of his father, though Aemon couldn’t tell what was so interesting about watching people go about their daily business.

“No,” his father replied at last and lifted his head. He didn’t smile, his mouth a firm line. “I am not occupied. Besides, you announced your coming. Here I am. Sit down and let us speak.”

“Do you want a cup?” his father added and pointed at the cup. “The servants poured it for me, but I have no need for it.”

Aemon was thankful for the offer and took a sip from the cup. The last weeks had been terrible and he had used every free moment to distract himself from the anger that was trying to overwhelm him.

He only had to take a look at his mother’s gaunt face, Gaemon’s lacking ear or Dany’s pale cheeks to feel anger stirring inside him.

Yet, the worst was that this enemy was still unknown to them.

It was frustrating and with every passing day it was getting worse, which was why Aemon was glad that he had finally come to a decision.

He needed to take his mother North and to investigate the string of misfortunes that had started with the attempt on his brother’s life.

Yet, the only man capable of telling him more was Ser Gerold Dayne, who had been sent to the Wall.

The was also partly the reason he had come here.

“I wanted to ask for a favor, father,” he said and after he had taken another sip from the cup. It helped to loosen his tongue. “Only with your approval, of course.”

His father nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Please, name your favor.”

“I want to take mother, North,” he explained his intentions. “She needs to leave this place, even if it is only for a while. You know how much she wants to go home and since you cannot go with her, I intend to do it.”

His father’s dark eyes narrowed in displeasure and he leaned back in his chair, an uncomfortable silence settling over them.

“Did Lyanna ask this of you?”

“No,” Aemon replied. “It was my idea. Mother is unhappy here and I thought she would like…,” he began, but his father shook his head.

“It is too dangerous, Aemon,” he said. “Your mother…she might only grow more unstable if you bring her North.”

“But she is your Queen now,” Aemon countered. “Surely, that will count something for the Northmen?”

“Will it?” his father asked in an irritated voice. “Lord Stark Eddard didn’t even come to our wedding. Your Uncle might not be as welcoming as you think, my son. I cannot take that risk.”

“You don’t have to fret about that, father,” Aemon insisted. “I will make sure that mother is treated well, for I don’t intend to come with empty hands to the North. I will earn their trust.”

A hint of curiosity showed on his father’s eyes. “And how do you intend to accomplish this feat?”

“The Night’s Watch,” Aemon explained. “You told me once that you wanted to inspect the Wall yourself, but the fact that my Uncle dislikes you makes it hard for you to do so. I might be Lady Lyanna’s son, but I am also Lord Eddard Stark’s nephew and the Northmen respect those who are friends to the Night’s Watch. Give me coin, men and written promises and I shall win you the friendship of the Night’s Watch…and perhaps even the North.”

His father said nothing for a long time and plucked the silver string of his harp, bringing forth a sweet sound.

“What do you say, father?” Aemon asked.

“It is not a bad idea,” his father admitted and smiled sadly. “What about your siblings? Have you thought of them?”

“Alysanne wants to return to Dragonstone,” Aemon pointed out. “She will be safe there and Gaemon…he is Aegon’s squire. I thought you meant to send him to Oldtown with Aegon and Ser Gerold Hightower?”

“Aye,” his father confirmed. “That was…is my intention. Aegon promised to take care of him.”

“And I have no doubt to question Aegon’s promise,” his father added quickly and brushed his hair out of his face.

“Then, it is settled,” Aemon said, still waiting for his father’s agreement. “I hope…Well, I hoped Daenerys…,” he began, but his father’s shaking head silenced him at once.

“It would be far too dangerous,” his father said. “You may go, but not Daenerys. Lyanna might receive a cold welcome, but I doubt anyone would ever dare to physically harm her. Daenerys…she is a little girl and mother would not be pleased with this…On top of that. It would be unseemly.”

“I could wed her,” Aemon offered, but his father shook his head again.

“Daenerys is too young,” his father told her. “And it would be an insult to Lord Stannis to see you wed before Aegon.”

“My mother was not much older,” Aemon pointed out. “And it is not like we have to consummate the marriage at once, father. There is enough…,” he began, but his father cut him off.

“I would have gladly waited for your mother, but it was a complicated situation. You know that. This is my last word in this matter.”

Aemon could tell by the tone in his father’s voice that their discussion was at an end.

“Very well,” Aemon said. “What about my other suggestion?”

“You may go,” his father replied at last, though he didn’t give the impression as if he was particularly happy with his decision. “But you will take Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell with you. I can’t have you go without proper protection. I shall do the rest and write to Lord Stark.”

Aemon felt great relief when he left his father and decided to seek out Dany had once. He had yet to tell her.

As expected, he found her awake and in company of Rhaenys, who had arrived only two days ago. Ever since, he had scarcely any free moment with Dany and usually had to share her with Rhaenys or another visitor.

“Oh, we have company,” Rhaenys noticed and graced him with a warm smile.

“Come and sit,” his sister offered and pointed at the chair beside the looking-glass.

Dany was seated in her bed. She was wearing a nightgown and her silver hair was braided. Rhaenys sat beside her, garbed in a deep-blue dress with long sleeves and her dark hair falling over her shoulder in a long braid.

“I would like to speak alone with Dany if you allow it, sister,” Aemon asked of Rhaenys.

“Very well,” she said and smiled. “I shall go and seek out the Queen’s ladies. Call for me if you have need of me, will you, brother? And you, Daenerys.”

“I will,” Dany promised and Aemon nodded his head in silent agreement. “I will.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Dany asked and touched his arm as he sat down beside her, She was smiling, despite her pale cheeks. “Is it about your mother.”

“My mother is recovering,” Aemon replied. “Archmaester Marwyn told me that she will soon be able to leave her bed and then….then I will take her North.”

Dany dropped her hand immediately. “North?”

“Aye,” Aemon replied in confirmation and brushed her silver braid over her shoulder. “I shall go North to inspect the Wall in father’s stead and leave my mother in Winterfell. Everything is already settled. I am going to leave in a moon from now.”

Dany said nothing for a while, then averted her gaze.

“Are you upset?” Aemon asked immediately.

“Of course,” she said. “How could I not? This is all so fast…and you said nothing about me or how long you will be gone.”

“I don’t know,” Aemon replied uncertainly. “It takes three moons to travel North and my business at the Wall will take a while. I also intend to stay with my kin for at least two moons. I need to get to know them. All in all, it might take roughly a year. I asked father for his permission to take you with me, but he thinks the North is not safe enough for a Targaryen Princess.”

“I am not a babe!” Dany cried out in indignation. “How dare he!”

“He is not wrong, though,” Aemon told her and touched her shoulders to hold her in place. “Even I have never been to the North. Besides, my father will have need of your presence here while his Queen is gone. Rhaenys cannot stay, but you…you could be a comfort to father…only until my mother has recovered her spirits. Besides, you can write me.”

“And you really think Marwyn’s stupid ravens will not freeze to death before they reach the Wall?”

Aemon chuckled. “I am sure they will make it.”

Dany didn’t seem satisfied by this and crossed her arms in front of her. “I don’t like it.”

“And I need to think of my mother,” Aemon replied and smiled as he leaned forward to cover her hand with his. “But try to see the positive in it. By the time, Summerhall has been rebuild and we can start fresh. How does that sound?”

Dany frowned.

“So I have to keep court with all these headache-inducing ladies and you are going off adventuring in the North? Your promise of marriage is not enough to ease my displeasure.”

She had risen to her feet with these last words, but Aemon had caught her around her hips to keep her in place.

In that moment, her frown slipped and a chuckle spilled from her lips.

“And you think that is going to ease away my displeasure?”

“No?” Aemon asked and brushed up her nightgown to put his hand between her legs. He stopped when he noticed that she wore no smallclothes. “You are depraved.”

She laughed.

“No, but I had a brush with death. I don’t want to waste any more time,” she replied and dropped her hands to the bindings of his breeches.

Aemon returned her laugh and pulled her on his lap, their mouths meeting half-way and his Aunt’s silver hair brushing his cheek.

He was already pulling on her dress, when the creaking of the door caused them to jump apart.

It was Rhaenys, who gave them a suspicious look.

“I forgot my harp,” she pointed out, but Aemon knew her better than that. His sister was a sly one. “Is your discussion already over?”

“It is,” Dany replied in a flustered tone and smoothed out her nightgown. “Aemon wanted to leave.”

“Oh, then I shall accompany you, brother,” she told him. “Perhaps you could show me the gardens. It has been a long time I have seen them.”

Aemon knew that meant Rhaenys wanted to speak alone with him.

_Fuck._

“Of course, sister.”

They had barely left the Red Keep, when Rhaenys stopped beside him and pulled on his hair.

Aemon gave a painful groan.

“Are you mad? What was that for?”

Rhaenys narrowed her dark eyes in displeasure and clucked her tongue. “Would you have preferred if I slapped you? And here I thought you were the reasonable of my brothers.”

“I did nothing,” Aemon defended himself, but he read doubt. “I swear it.”

“I know when you are lying,” Rhaenys insisted and searched his gaze. “So, tell me again. What are you thinking you are doing? Grandmother would kill you if she knew.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he began, but Rhaenys slapped his shoulder. At least she didn’t pull his hair. “Maybe not, but you are the older one. You are the one who bears the responsibility. Are you at least careful? Daenerys is too young.”

“I know,” Aemon replied and lifted his hands in appeasement. “We have been careful. Please, sister. Keep this to yourself.”

Rhaenys frowned and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Don’t you worry,” she said in a stricken tone. “I have always kept your secrets.”

Aemon felt pure relief as he took Rhaenys’ hand and kissed it. “I thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said and pulled her hand away. Yet, she was smiling. “But take this as a warning. Don’t try to pluck other girls or you will have worse problems than me pulling out your precious locks, sweet brother.”

Aemon nodded his head. “Where you listening at the door? It seems times never change.”

Rhaenys frowned at that. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Aemon patted her shoulder. “Yes, you were. Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Only to keep you and Aegon out of trouble!”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are confused: Dany knew that Lyanna wanted to go North, but she wasn't aware that Aemon was so eager to go nor that he wanted to go to the Wall too.


	38. Catelyn

**Catelyn**

Cat felt the threat of a terrible headache when Septa Mordane brought her two daughters before her.

It was the first time that Arya and Sansa resembled each other somewhat. Both their hair was disheveled and their dresses were torn, though their coloring was still as different as night and day.

Sansa had inherited Cat’s blue eyes and auburn hair while Arya had been born with the long face, grey eyes and brown hair of the Starks. Still, they were both her daughters and she loved them very much, but at times they were straining her patience.

“What happened to the girls’ dresses?” Cat asked the Septa.

“They had a silly argument,” the elderly woman explained disapprovingly. “And started to pull at each other’s hairs. I had needed Tomard’s help to restrain them. They were like two wild animals, my Lady.”

“I see,” Cat sighed and waved her hand at the Septa. “You may leave us now, Septa Mordane. You did everything that was possible.”

“I thank you, my Lady,” the Septa replied and left.

When the door had closed behind her, Cat shifted her attention back to the two girls, who hadn’t said a single word since they had been brought before her.

Sansa was eying her folded hands and Arya was muttering silent curses to herself.

“What argument compelled you two to ruin your new dresses and tear at each other’s hairs, if I may ask?”

Her gaze flickered back and forth between the two girls, but no answer came. Only silence.

Cat lost her patience quickly and shifted her attention on Sansa. She was always the easiest to crack.

“Sansa,” she said. “What happened?”

Sansa exhaled deeply and lifted her head. Anger showed in her blue eyes as she spoke.

“I only reminded Arya of her duties, Lady Mother. She has yet to write to Clay Cerwyn, to thank him for her nameday gift,” her daughter explained and glared at Arya. “And instead of thanking me for reminding her, she called me ‘stupid’ and other unseemly things. You can ask Jeyne Poole. She can confirm it to you, Lady Mother.”

Cat could barely open her mouth before Arya exploded.

“Because it is none of your _bloody_ business! You are always putting your nose into things that don’t concern you! And Jeyne Poole…she is a perpetual liar, Lady Mother! She would say anything to protect Sansa!”

“Jeyne would never lie! It is you who has no manners!”

“Enough!” Catelyn shouted. “Enough!”

The girls shuddered and grew silent.

“Good,” Cat said at last and waved her hand at Sansa. “You will go to your chamber and not leave it until I call for you. Arya and I must speak alone.”

A small smile played on Sansa’s lips, but Cat called wouldn’t allow her that victory.

“You are older than Arya and I expect of you to act like a Lady. You will also apologize to Arya by helping her with her stitching lessons and be deprived of Jeyne Poole’s company for the next few days. Is that understood?”

Sansa’s smile had faded away as quickly as the morning mist.

“I understand,” her daughter added softly and dropped a deep curtsy before she left the room.

“And now back to you,” Cat said and looked at Arya. “Why do you always have fight with your sister? I am sure she only meant well. And the horse Cley Cerwyn gave you was a generous gift. I thought you liked it?”

Arya frowned and crossed her arms in front of her. “I did, Lady Mother. Until I found out why he gave it to me. Sansa said he wants to marry me.”

Cat nodded her head and tried to show understanding. Arya had always been different than her sister in such matters. Boys were good play companions for her, but alone the mention of a betrothal usually ended in a quarrel. That Ned was too soft in this matter made it all the harder.

“That might be Lord Cerwyn’s intention,” Cat explained at last. “But that doesn’t mean your father will agree to this match. Your are still too young to be wed anyway. You do not need to trouble yourself about that, but that doesn’t mean I approve of your behavior. You will go to your chamber and stay there until supper. I shall find an appropriate punishment for both of you.”

Arya didn’t seem particularly bothered by Cat’s threat. On the contrary, it seemed her answer pleased her.

“And you will write to Cley Cerwyn and thank him for the gift,” she added before Arya had reached the door. “Is that understood?”

“Understood,” Arya piped back and stormed out of the room.

Cat sighed. The girl was a hopeless case. A Northern marriage was probably the best way to go, for she knew no southron lord who would be able to handle someone like Arya.

Having tamed her two girls, she went to seek out Ned, who had wanted to speak with her in an important matter or at least that is what he had implied in the morning.

_The raven from King’s Landing_, she recalled and knocked on the door. _From the King._

When nobody answered, she stepped inside to find Ned in company of Maester Luwin.

The parchment in his hand only confirmed what she had known beforehand.

This concerned the King’s letter.

“Forgive my delay,” she apologized and drew closer. “I had to sort out a fight.”

Ned nodded his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he squeezed her hand and pointed at the chair.

Yet, when she laid eyes on the broke crest, that was showing the three-headed-dragon, a dark foreboding washed over her.

_Dark, wings, dark words_, as the saying went. _Nothing good ever comes from King’s Landing._

“What does King Rhaegar want?”

“It is not about the King,” Ned replied coldly and handed her the parchment. “It is a about my sister and her son…Prince Aemon Targaryen.”

Cat nodded her head and read over the letter.

When she was done she finally understood Ned’s ill mood.

His sister had suffered a great loss and wanted to seek comfort in her home, a home she hadn’t visited in fifteen long years.

Yet, that was no the only thing that pained Ned.

Robert Baratheon was one reason and King Rhaegar was another.

Robert Baratheon had been like a brother to Ned and had found a gruesome death in the Battle of Bells. That the King had named his murderer his Hand must have angered Ned only more, but the heart of it all was surely the difficult situation with his sister.

Cat had met the girl only briefly nor had she paid her much attention until she had suddenly disappeared on her way to Riverrun.

Brandon had believed her taken by Prince Rhaegar, who had shamed her by crowning her Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney at Harrenhall.

That Brandon would ride to his death was not something she or her father could have ever expected.

But it happened and soon after the Mad King had murdered Lord Rickard and had called for Ned’s and Lord Robert’s heads.

Loyally, Jon Arryn had stood with his wards and had declared rebellion against the Mad King.

Yet, the Rebellion had ended in a bloody butchery at Stoney Sept and her father had lost his head and her brother had become a hostage.

Edmure was now Lord Riverrun, but the King’s loyal vassals were always watching him.

Truly, Cat had no reason to love the King nor his wife, though she was her kin by marriage.

Even more uncomfortable made her to have Lady Lyanna here in Winterfell.

Yet, she couldn’t voice these thoughts openly. She was after all Ned’s sister and a Lady of Winterfell.

“These are good tidings, though the occasion is a sad one,” Cat added quietly. “I expected far worse. Robb will be pleased to have the Prince here.”

Ned sighed and brushed his hand over his face.

“It is not the boy’s presence that bothers me. My sister and I have never seen eye to eye. It will be difficult for all of us.”

“And your bannermen might not be as courteous as your sister expects,” Maester Luwin added. “I suggest keeping them far away from Lady Lyanna.”

“That won’t be difficult,” Cat promised. “I will make sure of it.”

Ned chuckled at that. “You don’t know my sister, Cat. She is not the kind of person who will be pleased to sit all day inside her chamber and work on her stitching. It will not be easy for her.”

“And the Prince,” Maester Luwin said. “The King mentions that he wishes to travel to the Wall to visit his Grand-Uncle. An escort might be necessary….,” he began, but Ned silenced him with a shake of his head.

“I am sure the King is going to send one of the Kingsguard.”

Cat could hear the displeasure in his voice. Ned wasn’t pleased to have stranger in his home. So much was clear.

“Well, at least Robb will be pleased,” Cat said and gave Ned and encouraging smile. “He seems to miss his friends, which is why I think it would be best to find some companions for him. Cley Cerwyn perhaps or perhaps Lord Tallhart’s son.”

“A good idea,” Ned agreed and returned her smile. “I shall call upon them, but there is another one who will join them.”

Cat was surprised by this. Ned was rarely so forward-thinking in such matters.

“Who is it I wonder?” she asked.

“Domeric Bolton,” Ned said hesitatingly. “Lord Bolton thinks it a good idea, considering his boy is interested in Sansa. It would give them time to get acquainted with each other without giving any promises to Lord Bolton.”

Cat tried to hide her displeasure, though she had only had the best impression of the boy when he had visited Winterfell barely half a year ago. He was comely enough, a knight and had good manners, but his father was a man that didn’t exactly inspire loyalty.

Roose Bolton was a serious man with pale grey eyes and a whispering voice that never failed to make Cat’s blood freeze.

She had also hoped for a better match for Sansa, but that was not her decision to make.

“I do not mind the boy’s presence. An older companion will be good for Robb.”

Ned seemed relieved by her answer and smiled.

“I thank you for your understanding. I know it will be difficult for you to have my sister here. She is a complicated person.”

Cat nodded her head in confirmation and kept her true thoughts to herself.

“So, I have heard, but she is still your sister. Perhaps she wants to make peace with you.”

Ned said nothing to that, but she could tell by his sad expression that this was his greatest hope.

…


	39. Cersei

**Cersei**

The Dornish Whore was finally dead, but only Cersei seemed pleased about it. Nobody had smiled, but her, but then it had only been her who had risen early every day to pray in the Sept that the Dornish Whore wouldn’t recover from her bout of consumption.

And her prayers had been answer, just not all her prayers. The Stark whore was still alive, but then they hadn’t seen much of her in the last years. Yes, she had pupped the King three children, but one of them was a crippled girl that had been borne sightless. And now she had lost a fourth babe, a girl they say, due to poison, but who had committed this crime was still a mystery. Most claim it were the Dornish, but then the King had done naught but to ask Prince Oberyn Martell to come to King’s Landing. Of course, the man had refused his King’s call and had supposedly fled to Essos, which only confirmed most people’s suspicions. Even so, the King had done little else. Only the Stark Whore was supposedly leaving for the North to recover from loss of her child. How anyone would be able to recover in a frozen hell like the North was a mystery to Cersei, but then she was just glad that she would never have to go there.

Yet, that was not the point. The point was that birth took a toll on the strongest of woman and Lyanna Stark was not growing any younger. Surely, by now she had lost all the beauty that had lured the King into her bed all these years ago.

These kinds of thoughts filled her with fresh hope, but when she laid eyes on her father’s face, she sobered at once.

“They say the King expects his Queen back within a year,” her Lord Father said. “And the Queen Mother Rhaella will take over her duties until her return. She wishes for your presence at court.”

“A chance for you to finally leave Casterly Rock, niece,” her Uncle Kevan said. He lacked her father’s strength and wit. He was like a shadow trying to compare himself to the sun.

Beside him was Tyrion, who was sipping on a cup of wine. Going by the smile on his lips, he was already plotting sinister.

Her Lord Father had had two more brothers, but both had left this world. Ser Tygett had died many years ago and his youngest brother Gerion had disappeared on an expedition to Asshai.

Cersei hadn’t cared for neither of them. Tygett had been fond of Tyrion and Gerion had been even worse. His constant jesting had bothered her more than Tyrion’s existence. At last, there was also her Aunt Genna, who was married to a Frey Lord, that had risen to great esteem for fighting on the side of the Targaryen forces during the Rebellion. One of old Walder Frey’s daughters had even been sent to King’s Landing to serve as a lady-in-waiting.

_Walder Frey must be weeping from joy_, Cersei thought. _The old cunt._

“Cersei,” her Lord Father grumbled. He was looking at her as if she was an annoying child, instead of his trueborn daughter. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you, Lord Father,” she replied and forced a smile over her lips. “I shall do my best to win the King’s favor.”

“That would be a waste of your time,” her Lord Father said coldly. “I have watched the King and his Stark Whore for years and I can tell you: He is not going to stray from her bed, no matter how many babes of hers are poisoned by the Dornish. Instead, I want you to support your daughter and win the Queen Mother’s favor. Of all people at court, the King listens to her council the most. If want to wed the King you must win her confidence.”

Cersei had known that herself, which made it all the more unpleasant when her Lord Father had pointed it out to her.

And that was the worst about it. Her Lord Father had not even looked at her when he had spoken to her. She was nothing to him, but a womb to pup his heirs.

He had proved so much, when he had forcefully wed Cersei to Ser Robert Brax and had allowed him to crawl between her legs to continue the Lannister line.

She had been more than pleased when she had born her two children in the matter of a year of their marriage and had thus found a reason to banish him from her bed. Ever since that day, they had lived separated, though he had made many attempts to win her love.

Eventually, the fool had given up his foolish attempts and had devoted his time to their children. With little success, for her precious Joffrey had loathed his _supposed _father, which was no surprise to her.

More than once, her unrefined husband had laid her sweet boy over the knee to tame Joffrey’ supposedly troublesome character, as her late husband had called it.

Cersei had of course complained to her Lord Father, but it had been no use. Instead of banishing the fool from Casterly Rock, he had even allowed him to take over Joffrey’s weapon training. Day and night, he had chased her poor boy over the courtyard. One day, when her son had come bruised and bleeding, Cersei had realized that something needed to be done.

A moon later, her Lord Husband had perished from poisonous mushrooms. No one had wept for the fool, but Myrcella, but then she had always been too soft of heart. She had that from Jaime or so Cersei believed, for until this very day she was not sure whether her precious children had been born from Jaime’s or her late husband’s seed.

Yet, it was possible. Joffrey looked just like Jaime: tall, golden-haired, a true lion, though at times wondered what her son would have looked like if it had been born from King Rhaegar’s seed.

And Myrcella. She was even more beautiful, a mirror image of Cersei, a bride worthy of a King, but his foolish advisors had convinced him to betroth his heir to Stannis Baratheon’s plain girl. Worse was that King Rhaegar intended to wed her beautiful girl to the Stark Whore’s bastard and that her Lord Father was also very enchanted with this idea.

_Gaeron…or was it Gaemon?_ _What a horrible name for a dragon._

“Cersei!” her Lord Father’s cold voice made her shudder. “What in the gods has gotten into you?”

Cersei frowned and felt rage stir inside her breast when she heard Tyrion’s amused chuckling.

“I think she is dreaming of the King, Lord Father,” Tyrion jested and bared his teeth at Cersei. “Jaime once showed me this pretty painting of her and no other than the King…I think they were fucking…and all of that on a dra…,” he was about to continue, but Cersei had silenced him by hurling her empty cup straight at his head.

That her twisted little brother had managed to duck in time, angered her only more, but when she saw her Lord Father’s stern look, she lowered her gaze and fell silent.

“You should have killed him, Lord Father,” she hissed. “Tyrion is a disgrace for our house. He wed a commoner…a whore at that.”

Tyrion didn’t seem bothered by her threats and picked up the cup from the floor. “Unfortunately, not even our Lord Father wants to be a kinslayer, sweet sister.”

“We have heard quiet enough, Tyrion, ” her Lord Father warned. “I think it would be best for you to leave us now. I am sure you have more important duties to attend to.”

Tyrion grinned and took his leave with a leap from the chair. “Indeed, Lord Father. The sewers of Casterly Rock are waiting for me.”

“His whores more likely,” Cersei muttered angrily as she lifted her head to look at her Lord Father and Uncle. “You should send him away, Lord Father. Or better…cut off his cock, to prevent him from producing bastards with his dirty whores.”

“That is none of your business,” her Lord Father said coldly and cocked his head. “And Tyrion is not wrong. As I told you, the King couldn’t care less about you. To get into his bed you must win the Queen Mother’s favor, but that is not the only thing I want from you, daughter.”

Cersei was surprised to hear this.

“What else could you want from me, Lord Father?”

“I want you to encourage Joffrey to build a friendship with Prince Gaemon. They are not that far apart in age and will one day be brothers by marriage. And to accomplish this goal I intend to make Joffrey Jaime’s squire.”

Cersei could only scoff in disgust. “The boy is the Stark Whore’s bastard…,”she was about to protest, but her Lord Father cut her off.

“The boy is third in line for the throne. I couldn’t care less who birthed him, as long as he weds my granddaughter and puts royal children into her womb. I do not think this concept is too hard to understand, daughter.”

“It is not,” Cersei replied and tried her best to hide her disgust. “But I cannot endure the thought of seeing my daughter ploughed by a bastard.”

“The boy is no longer a bastard, though,” her Uncle Kevan added quietly. “The King’s marriage to Queen Lyanna legitimized all three children.”

“Trueborn or not, Uncle,” Cersei said and scoffed. “But they are still the Stark Whore’s pups.”

“So much is true,” her Lord Father said and exhaled deeply. “But it is a fact we cannot change. The Stark Whore’s boy is our best way into the royal family. I have been waiting for this opportunity for years and I won’t have you destroy it. Is that understood, daughter?”

Cersei knew then what her Lord Father wanted to hear.

Obedience.

Like always.

It was the only thing she was good for.

“I understand, Lord Father,” she played along and forced a smile over her lips as she poured herself fresh wine into her cup, but in her mind she was already far away. “And I shall do as you wish.”

_And I shall be Queen_, she thought and smiled. The wine tasted suddenly much better. _Much later than I thought, but I don’t regret my precious Joffrey and my beautiful Myrcella._

_Yes, my time had finally come. A year should be enough time to accomplish my goal._

Yes, it was time to cast away her black dresses.

She longed for red silk and rubies in her hair.

She wanted to be young again. She wanted to be beautiful. She wanted the King to pull off her clothes and to fuck her madly.

She wanted to win his heart and make him forget about the Stark Whore.

…


	40. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

The bright torchlight chased away the shadows as they climbed down the numerous steps that led beneath the Red Keep. Aemon had told her that he had come here numerous times with Aegon to hide or to play.

Dany had come here only one time when she was a little girl. Viserys had carried her through the large cavernous room that harbored dragon skulls, big and small. She had been awfully scared and Viserys had teased her for it.

Viserys’ relentless teasing made her forget her fear and she had even dared to touch one of them.

Now, she was nearly ten and four, and still felt a hint apprehension as she walked behind Aemon.

“Come along,” Aemon whispered and led her to a particular large skull. He smiled as led her hand along the skull. “They are warm. Sometimes, they feel almost alive.”

“Like your egg,” Dany added and tried to hide her jealousy. Ever since, she was a little girl she had dreamed of dragons. She had also been terribly jealous when Rhaegar had given the eggs to his children and she had gotten none. Viserys had been unhappy too, but he had been much older and thus it had been easier for him to hide his displeasure over the matter.

When she had been unconscious, she had dreamed of being a dragon again. She had seen herself in a place of ruins and heavy with child, as she stepped into a burning pyre.

It had felt as real as Aemon’s grip on her hand, the flames burning away her hair and clothes and devouring her skin and bones.

Then, she had heard a cracking sound and the song of dragons. It had been a wonderful feeling, but there had been sadness too.

“Dany,” Aemon said and pulled her arm. “Are you still there?”

Dany smiled at him and nodded her head. “I am still there.”

“This is Balerion the Dread, isn’t it?”

Aemon nodded his head, his moving slightly downwards to brush over her waist. The feeling left her trembling and she knew what he wanted.

She wanted it too, but she knew she shouldn’t risk it.

“Not Baelerion,” Aemon chuckled and kissed first her cheek and then her neck. ”Sunfyre.”

Dany trembled at that. “The dragon that devoured Rhaenyra.”

“True,” Aemon agreed and stopped, his gaze searching hers. “A gruesome tale. Aegon deserved what he got.”

“Rhaenyra wasn’t a saint either,” Dany pointed out, but had to admit that she had always felt pity for Rhaenyra Targaryen. “Her father made her his _rightful heir_, but everyone betrayed.”

“Aegon is Half-Dornish,” Aemon said and leaned closer. “Perhaps he can do away with these cock-favoring policies.”

Dany laughed and backed away from his lips that were seeking hers. “You are being silly. As if Aegon has any say in that. It’s the other lords you need to convince of this. There has not been a singly Lady in of Winterfell either.”

“True,” Aemon laughed and leaned down to squeeze her backside. Dany laughed again, but grabbed his hand, to brush it away. Truly, it was a childish game they were playing. “But perhaps there will be one in the future? Well, I cannot change the succession that was established in the past, but I wouldn’t mind a Lady of Summerhall.”

Dany chuckled and leaned closer to press her lips on his. They kissed softly and thoroughly, a sigh leaving her mouth, as she pressed her forehead against Aemon’s.

“Somewhere in the future,” Dany promised. “I am going to miss this.”

“I am going to freeze my balls off at the Wall,” Aemon said warmly and touched her cheek. “Isn’t that consolation enough for you?”

“Nobody forces you to go,” Dany pointed out the obvious. “But I understand why you are going. I hope your mother has a warm welcome in the North.”

“I will make sure of it,” Aemon told her with determination. “Until then, you can be the Lady of the Court. And with grandmother there, nobody will dare to make a fuss.”

“True,” Dany agreed. “But I wish Viserys would come back.”

“Viserys couldn’t have known that my mother would be poisoned,” Aemon countered.

“I was poisoned too,” Dany reminded him. “And my stupid brother didn’t even come home for me.”

“Love makes people do stupid things,” Aemon said and kissed her cheek. “So, let’s not be stupid…like Rhaenys said. Right?”

“I don’t agree,” Dany said and kissed him, pushing apart his lips. “Let’s be stupid I say. I nearly died and I want to enjoy myself. Is that wrong?”

Aemon was hesitant at first, but then he deepened the kiss. A soft gasp escaped her lips as his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

In between their heated kisses, she pulled down her small clothes that quickly slipped all the way down to her ankles. Aemon seemed to sense her problem and pushed up the skirt of her dress before touching her softly between her legs.

Heat built between her legs and she had to close her eyes to drive away these overwhelming feelings. When it become too much, she bit her lips and pulled away, her gaze searching for Aemon’s.

His eyes were black and blown, his lips bruised from her kisses.

She knew this would be the last time for a long time and thus she took a moment to savor this precious moment.

Aemon seemed amused, a hint of a smile crossing over his lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

Dany gave him a savage smile and pulled on his cloak.

“That I want you on the floor beneath me.”

Aemon chuckled as he pulled off his cloak and spread it over the ground.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Indeed,” Dany confirmed and watched as Aemon sat down on the ground. She thought of pulling off her dress, but then she decided against it. She was feeling cold and thus she pulled off the rest of her stockings and sat down in his lap.

She quickly worked the laces his breeches, put her knees on either side of him and sank down on him. She sighed at the feeling and watched how Aemon bit back a groan, his eyes tightly shut.

When he opened his eyes again, she leaned closer to kiss him while Aemon’s hand was travelling up to touch her breast.

Dany sighed and slowed her pace. She knew that was driving him insane and she also wanted to slow down time before his departure.

It didn’t take long before the tension started to build inside her and soon she was unable to hold herself, riding him faster.

As if Aemon had been able to read her mind, he wrapped his arms around her and pushed up against her.

One, two and three more thrusts and she fell over the edge, biting her lips.

Aemon didn’t return her kiss and quickly pulled her from his lap, to spill on the ground.

Dany laughed, her breathing still labored when she noticed his frown.

“Your cloak is ruined.”

“Indeed,” Aemon said with a hint of embarrassment, his cheeks deeply flushed. “And that was pretty close. I am glad that next time we will most likely be wed.”

Dany nodded her head in confirmation and laughed. “Indeed.”

…


	41. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys watched as her brother Aemon took his leave from their brother. Egg was smiling, but she could see the sadness hidden beneath his façade of false cheerfulness.

He was not happy to see his brother go, but only Gaemon was able to express his sadness openly. He liked to pretend that he was all grown-up, but now he was weeping like a little babe.

_Good that Alys went back to Dragonstone. She would have teased our brother mercilessly._

And it only got worse when Aemon patted Gaemon’s head, snot and tears rolling down his cheeks like a river of salt and pain.

“Oh, stop your weeping!” Aemon chided his brother softly. “Or I will start crying as well. I am too old for that.”

“Nobody is old enough for a handful of honest tears,” Dany chided him in return and kissed his cheek. Rhaenys knew that their relationship was deeper than that, but she was pleased to see that they were keeping it in measure. It would be at least one or three years before they could be properly wed and they couldn’t afford unexpected surprises. “Especially, not when it concerns little brothers.”

“Rhaenys is not crying,” Aemon pointed out. Rhaenys chuckled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

“I am crying inwardly,” she whispered to him and placed a kiss on his cheek .”Or do you want me to start crying as well? There is still time!”

“No need,” Aemon said and patted her arm. “Or we will all drown in a puddle of tears.”

Dany clucked her tongue and crossed her arms in front of her. “We are not that bad.”

Rhaenys laughed as she left Aemon’s embrace and looked at her Aunt. “I don’t think Aemon meant to insult you.”

“He did not,” Dany replied and looked over her shoulder at Lady Lyanna and Rhaenys’ father.

Lady Lyanna was already seated on her horse and garbed in a grey fur cloak.

Ser Arthur was holding the reins of her horse, his violet gaze resting on the King.

His King had commanded Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell Whent to accompany his Queen to Winterfell.

Her father’s hadn’t decision surprised her, though some of her father’s advisors had wrinkled their nose at the fact that the King held House Dayne still in high regard after the terrible incident with her brother.

Worse was, that Lord Mace had even gone as far as to suggest that the King should reconsider replacing her Grand-Uncle Lewyn and had offered his son Ser Loras in the same breathe.

Her father had kindly refused his offer, though she had the feeling that her father was also believing that her kin had something to do with the past incidents, for he had yet to allow Dornishmen back at court, safe for her Grand-Uncle Lewyn, Aegon’s friends and of course Ser Arthur.

When their father noticed their staring, he gave his Queen a last kiss and graced them with a tense smile.

Rhaenys returned his smile, though she could see the pain hidden beneath her father’s smile. He had protested vehemently against Lady Lyanna’s wishes to travel to Winterfell and it had been her brother Aemon who had convinced him in the end.

It was a good idea, she thought, for Lady Lyanna to go home.

And she was not only thinking of Lady Lyanna’s feelings in this matter, but also about the realm.

It was about time for House Targaryen and House Stark to make peace.

“I hope you have a kind travel, North,” Rhaenys told Lady Lyanna, who dipped her head and smiled at her.

“I hope so too.”

Aemon led his horse to their side.

“And do not forget to write me,” he said to Rhaenys and Dany, who was leaning on Rhaenys’ arm for support. “I shall expect your letters.”

Dany laughed and Rhaenys nodded her head in confirmation.

“What about, Egg?”

Aemon chuckled as he nudged the side of his horse gently.

“You know that I can scarcely read Egg’s letters, but I will try my best.”

Aegon grinned, his hand resting on Gaemon’s shoulder, who was still rubbing away his tears with the palm of his hand.

His eyes were resting on his mother and he was forcing himself to smile and wave at her.

The way Lady Lyanna was looking at her son, Rhaenys half expected her to jump from her saddle and declare that she wouldn’t go after all.

Yet, then she turned around and led her horse away, Aemon riding after her.

Rhaenys also realized that this was the end of her stay in King’s Landing.

She too needed to return to the Reach, to her beloved Willas and the overbearing Tyrells, but first she went to seek out her chamber to find some peace.

Her dresses were still sprawled over the bed and the last book she had been reading, lay discarded on the low table next to the canopy placed beside the brazier she had no need for. Autumn was coming, but in King’s Landing it still felt as if it was the height of summer. In the night she was able to chase away the chill with her furs, but during the day it was almost impossible to escape the stifling heat.

It was similar in Dorne, but nobody there would even think of lifting a finger during the midday heat. It was a time of rest, but in King’s Landing there was never any rest to be found. People were always running back and fro, like mad ants trying to find something to waste their time on. Whether it was work, gossip or plotting, there was always something to do.

It made her all the happier to return to the Reach, where the weather was more pleasant and the people as well.

She would miss her father and siblings, though. It had been wonderful to spend time with them. And Daenerys as well, but she got to hear plenty from her through the letters they have been exchanging since Rhaenys’ marriage scarce a year ago.

She sighed in relief when she was finally able to pull off her stockings and slippers. She threw them over her shoulder before settling down on the bed.

Then, she leaned down to search through the strongbox she always carried with her. It took her a handful of moments to open it and was pleased to find her egg where she had left it.

It was her most precious possession, though she had barely any knowledge about dragons besides the books she had read about them.

Smiling, she brushed her hand over the Egg’s surface and marveled at its warmth. Gaemon believed that they were alive and Rhaenys wanted to desperately believe him, but then she was no little girl anymore. The last dragons had been hatched nearly a decade ago or at least that is what the Maester of Highgarden never failed to remind her of.

Rhaenys couldn’t stand him. Everything that defied logic was superstition to him and once she had overhead him call her ancestors’ practice of brother-and-sister marriages perverted.

Rhaenys had felt the urge to cut out his tongue, but then she hadn’t wanted to make enemies with an important man like him. That she had to seek him out for her fertility treatment angered her even more.

It was truly ridiculous. It had only been a year into her marriage and Lord Mace had suggested for her to seek the treatment of their esteemed Maester. Rhaenys had refused at first, but then she had given in after Lady Margaery had told her that the best way to deal with Lord Mace was to give him what he wants.

Thus, Rhaenys had subjugated herself to the humiliating practice of drinking Maester Yorik’s bitter droughts.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of her duties, but at times she felt more like a breeding stud than a person. Willas was the only one who seemed not at all in a hurry about the matter, but Rhaenys was also aware that servant girls were watching her moon cycles and reporting everything to Lord Mace Tyrell.

_I have two brothers_, Willas would tell her every time. _There is no need to pressure yourself._

And that was part of the problem. She knew he meant well, but he never said _us_, for at the end of the day pressure was resting on her shoulders.

Whenver Maester Yorik was looking at her, he was only talking about her womb, as if a man’s cock was completely unimportant to a child’s conception. Not that Rhaenys was an expert on the matter, but she had read enough to know that both a man and a woman were needed to make a child.

That her mother had been rather weak in constitution had only added to her doubts, though Rhaenys’ had never been sick as a child, safe for the bout of measles that all her siblings at suffered from. When Egg had caught the measles Archmaester Marwyn had even recommended for the other children to be brought in her brother’s presence_. Catching the illness once makes it unlikely that it will never strike again_, the Archmaester had explained to her fretting grandmother and mother so long ago…

Many more such distant memories whirled through her mind, when a sudden knock at the door brought her back to the present moment.

“Yes? Who is there?” Rhaenys asked and rose to her feet, the stone floor cold beneath her bare feet.

At first, she believed it to be Ymme or Marya, ladies that Lady Alerie had assigned to her upon her arrival at Highgarden, but the answer surprised her.

“It is me…Lady Allyria,” came the answer and Rhaenys was quick to open the door.

Her old friend hadn’t changed much since she had last laid eyes on her. She was still tall and beautiful, much like her _birth mother,_ Lady Ashara Dayne. Only her longish face revealed her father’s blood.

“Gods, this is a pleasant surprise,” Rhaenys said and pulled her into a warm embrace before offering her a place to sit on the cushioned canopy and a cup of wine, which the girl refused in favor of a cup of milk.

“It seems you haven’t changed one bit,” Rhaenys remarked as she eyed Allyria’s white and velvet dress in the Dornish fashion. Rheanys missed these kinds of dresses, but in the Reach people would only look at her strangely for it. Willas unfortunate accident was another reason, but at times it seemed as if Lord Mace Tyrell had forgotten that Rhaenys was half-Dornish.

To her shame, she had developed a dislike for him, but it helped to remind herself what he really was. A stupid Pufffish, who thought he could win his father’s affection by speaking ill of her kin.

Allyria’s face was lightened by a warm smile as she placed the cup back on the table.

“Oh, you mean the milk? Well, I never liked wine. The other ladies claim that wine makes you appear older, but I think it makes them just silly. Well, my dislike for wine has at least one advantage. It kept me from getting poisoned.”

“Indeed,” Rhaenys agreed and leaned forward. She was sitting cross-legged on the thick fur-carpet beside, the egg in her lap. Its warmth gave her comfort. “Which is why I am surprised your Lady Mother allowed you to be here. My father sent almost all Dornishmen home. Well, I suppose being the good-sister to the Master of Laws and the Sword of the Morning has its perks.”

“Mother is also planning to come here,” Allyria explained. “The Queen Mother wants her as one of her ladies-in-waiting. I heard she also summoned Lady Cersei Lannister and Lady Alerie Tyrell to join her at court.”

This surprised Rhaenys. “Why not Lady Margaery, I wonder?”

Allyria shrugged her shoulders and emptied the rest of her cup. “I do not know, but I know that the Queen Mother wants myself, Lady Margaery and Lady Roslin to attend to Princess Daenerys.”

“You don’t seem enthusiastic about it,” Rhaenys replied and watched her friend more closely. She was always of the serious kind. Serene on her good and brooding on her bad days. “Do you dislike my Aunt?”

“Oh no,” Allyria said and started to play with her long dark hair. “I just hoped to get away from King’s Landing and be your lady again.”

Rhaenys sighed and shook her head. She was touched by her offer, but that would displease Lady Alerie greatly.

“I have plenty of ladies,” Rhaenys said and leaned closer to pat her friend’s hand. “And you know the Reachmen. They have a natural distrust for the Dornish.”

“Yet, you are wed to one,” Allyria chuckled, but Rhaenys could hear the disappointment in her voice. “A Reachman.”

“A good one, though,” Rhaenys added and smiled. “I am sure you will find one too.”

Allyria rolled her eyes. “You know my opinion of men. The best of them are fools and the worst of them are pigs. I rather end up as an old spinster.”

Rhaenys shook her head in disbelief.

“Aren’t you a bit overdramatic?”

“Why?” Allyria asked and rose to her feet. “Because I aim to be an old spinster? Well, I think it is a worthy goal. Well, my mother thinks differently. She wants me to wed a certain Lord Beric Dondarrion.”

Rhaenys had seen said Lord once. He had been comely enough, but he was older than her friend by several years. Well, so was Willas.

“Mayhaps you should get to know him before you judge him.”

Allyria said nothing to that. She simply smiled.

“You are probably right.”

…


	42. Ned

**Ned**

His nephew looked like Lyanna.

The boy riding between Ser Oswell Whent and Benjen had the longish Stark face and his sister’s dark brown hair. Only his straight nose and his dark eyes betrayed his Targaryen blood.

It came as a surprise to him, for not even his own children had inherited much of the Starks of old. Sometimes, he saw bits and pieces of Benjen and Brandon in his sons, but Sansa was all a Tully, shiny auburn curls and blue eyes of summer while Arya looked like Lyanna and showed the greatest resemblance to her royal cousin.

Ned knew from Lyanna’s letters that she had born the King two more children, a boy and a girl, but he hand never met them in person. The girl was called Alysanne and sightless, but spirited like her mother. The boy Gaemon was all a dragon, silver-haired and purple-eyed like his father, though he supposedly had something of Brandon’s sunny temper.

Yet, all that was forgotten when he laid eyes on his sister’s pale face.

_I should have never allowed her to stay in the south._

_The King was a fool who couldn’t be trusted._

When he saw his nephew’s somber expression, he began to wonder what Rhaegar had told him about the North and Ned’s family.

Yet, within the blink of a moment the boy’s demeanor changed again, for when his nephew lifted his dark eyes to take in the snow-dusted towers and walls of Winterfell, Ned had noticed a hint of wonder.

It was not much. The boy knew nothing of the North. And he was a Targaryen Prince.

“The Prince looks like me,” Arya remarked beside Ned. “But why does not have silver hair?

“Not all Targaryens have silver hair, Arya,” Sansa corrected her. “One of them had the Dornish looks.”

Arya scowled at her sister.

“I know that.”

“Didn’t sound like it,” Sansa taunted and promptly received a kick on the shin.

“Arya!” Sansa shrieked. “You are ruining my dress!”

“Silence,” Cat chided them and pulled on their daughter’s shoulders. “Can’t you two behave for once?”

Arya whispered a quick apology and Sansa blushed.

“Aemon has grown,” Robb said then and patted Bran’s shoulder, who had watched Arya’s and Sansa’s fight with amusement. Only Rickon was missing, but he was just a babe and dragging him out here would only rouse his wolfish temper. “It will be good to have him here.”

Ned nodded his head and shifted his attention back to approaching riders. Only a handful of hours ago, a rider had arrived to inform them about their coming and thus the reception had been hastily arranged.

“Ned!” Benjen called out and was the first one to greet him. He was quick to climb from his horse and spread his arms wide before pulling Ned into a tight embrace. “I bring our guests.”

Ned had sent him ahead to meet Lyanna’s party along the way. His wife Lady Dacey Mormont and his daughter were still missing, but had promised to join them soon.

Cat was the next to receive his brother’s affection. He embraced her quickly and placed a kiss on her cheek. He did the same with Arya and Sansa, but was refused by Bran, who claimed that he was a man grown and had no need for a hug.

Robb was the last one to receive a hug and a warm smile before he shifted his attention back to their sister and nephew.

His nephew was dressed in black, safe for the crimson cloak wrapped around his shoulders. It fluttered behind him like the plumage of a bird.

“Ned,” Benjen began, leaving out all formality. “This is Aemon Targaryen, our sister’s son.”

Lyanna was helped from her horse by Ser Arthur Dayne, but stayed behind.

His nephew stepped forward and dipped his head in respect, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his dark brown hair wind-swept from the icy winds.

“I am pleased to be here, Uncle.”

Ned swallowed hard and spoke.

“Welcome to Winterfell, nephew,” he said and waved his hand at Cat and his children. “May I introduce my wife and children. Robb you already know.”

Cat mustered a smile for that didn’t quite reach her face, but that was only natural. It was King Rhaegar, who had taken Lord Hoster’s head.

“We have your chambers prepared for you and…your mother.”

His nephew nodded his head and smiled when he looked at Robb and the rest of Ned’s children.

“I thank you, my Lady and my Lord,” he said at last and shifted uncomfortable before he lifted his gaze to look at Ned. He opened and closed his fist for a moment, before he continued. “ I brought mother home…,” he said and bit his lips.

Then, he pointed at Lyanna, who wore a grey dress and a thick fur cloak of he same color. She looked like a ghost of their mother, a far cry from the wild girl he had known in his youth.

It seemed the south had changed her too…

“You look well, Lya,” Ned complimented his sister who smiled at him tensely. “And you are welcome. You both are welcome here.”

“I thank you, Ned,” Lyanna replied and lowered the hood of her cloak. “I think we should go inside. Ser Oswell, Ser Arthur and my son do not appreciate the cold as much as we do.”

“That is indeed so,” his nephew added and rubbed his hands together. “I would appreciate a warm fire, Uncle.”

“Well then,” Ned said and smiled at Robb and the rest of his children. “How about you show your cousin the way to his chamber?”

Robb opened his mouth, but Arya interrupted him.

“I can show you!” she replied excitedly and pointed at the castle. “Come! Come!”

And gone she was.

Sansa rolled her eyes and gave the Prince an apologetic look, but Prince Aemon smiled warmly.

“She looks like my sister,” his nephew said and looked at Robb. “Shall we go? You have to introduce me properly, Stark.”

Robb returned his smile and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go. Arya has already shown us the way.”

Bran was quick to followed suit, leaving only Sansa.

“Why don’t you follow, sweetling?” Ned asked her softly.

Sansa was shaken from her stupor and blushed.

“Of course,” she chirped and pulled up her blue skirt before following after the others. “Of course!”

“They have grown so much,” Benjen said with a smile. “Makes me miss little girl even more. I hope Dacey has resolved the matter with the Wildlings.”

“I am sure of it,” Ned assured him and patted his hand. “She is a capable woman.”

Then, he forced another polite smile over his lips, as Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur came to stand beside his sister.

“It was a bloody long ride, Lord Stark,” Ser Oswell said rather bluntly. “And there are matters we should discuss.”

“Of course,” Ned replied.

Not long after they retreated back into Ned’s solar, a warm fire sizzling in the hearth.

“So, what is there left to be discussed?” Ned asked his sister and her two protectors.

“Not much,” Lyanna said and rubbed her hands over the open fire. “I just wanted to speak with you in private. I know my presence does not please your bannermen. I wanted to apologize for that.”

Ned was surprised to such words from his sister’s mouth. Her brush with death was the only possibly explanation that came to his mind.

“There is no need for that. You are my sister and this place is as much your home as it is mine. You will always be a Lady of Winterfell.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Lyanna replied with a weary smile. “And I am pleased to be here. My son as well, though it will take him a bit of time to warm up to all of these strangers.”

“He looks like you,” Ned remarked for the lack of a better answer. “But he has the King’s temper.”

“He is a fine boy,” Lyanna replied proudly. “And I wanted Alysanne to accompany me, but she wanted to remain in Dragonstone. Gaemon is Aegon’s squire and I couldn’t bring myself to shatter his dreams, especially after what happened to him.”

Ned had heard only rumors, but no details.

“He lost his ear, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Lyanna replied and folded her hands in front of her. “And I lost my babe. It seems someone is trying to cause a war.”

“They say it were the Dornish,” Cat remarked beside him. ”And that Prince Oberyn fled to Essos to escape the King’s wrath.”

“That is the official story, my Lady,” Lyanna explained and exhaled deeply. “But there is no proof. It could have been anyone.”

“Well, whoever it was,” Ser Oswell Whent added and sipped on his cup of mulled wine. “I and Ser Arthur will make sure that no harm comes to the Queen and Prince Aemon. I hope you don’t mind our presence too much, Lord Stark.”

The man had just arrived and was already grating on Ned’s nerves.

“My wife will be pleased to have her kin here.”

Cat gasped beside him and Oswell chuckled drily. Even Ser Arthur managed a half-smile.

“Lady Whent was my cousin, but of the second or third degree. It is hard to say. I don’t recall the details of our relations. Well, not that it matters. House Whent died with her and her horrid husband even tried to steal Harrenhall from her. I made sure that didn’t happen. It was the least I could do, despite our distant relation.”

“Petyr?” Cat asked. “What has he done if I may ask?”

“I do not know, my Lady,” Ser Oswell replied and shrugged his shoulders. “Only that Lady Whent held a great dislike for him in her last years. She disinherited him in secret and gave the will to me for safekeeping so I may relay it to the King. As a result Harrenhall has now fallen back int the hands of the crown. I assume he will gift the lands to a lord of his choosing.”

“I see,” Lady Stark said and nodded her head in understanding. “I see.”

…


	43. Lysa

**Lysa**

Lysa watched as her little boy was playing with his new toy sword. Up and down, he was waving his wooden stick like a knight in the songs.

He was just so overwhelming beautiful, this precious boy of hers, his reddish hair glimmering in the bright sunlight.

“Look, mother!” he exclaimed as he waved his blade at the page boy, that squeaked in pain whenever the wood stick hit his curly head. Lysa had threatened to send the page boy home if he didn’t keep still. “I am a Winged Knight!”

Lysa, who had been watching her precious boy from the pale balcony overlooking the Alyssa’s garden beneath, turned around when she noticed her beloved’s presence.

Petyr had grown only more handsome in the years of his absence. Yet, she would have even loved him even if he was no longer the beautiful boy that had grown up with her in Riverrun.

That he had been forced to wed this horrid woman, a certain Lady Whent, had been bad enough. Every night, Lysa had prayed for the Stranger to carry her to the beyond, but not long ago her prayers had finally been answered.

Not long after, he husband had also finally left this world, albeit with a bit of help. Petyr had visited had brought her the most precious of gift of all: Tears of Lys.

This simple poison had finally freed her from the shackles her father had imposed on her when he had forced her to wed Jon Arryn.

The old man had never been cruel to her, but every time he had visited her bed she had wanted to kill herself, so disgusted she had been by his bad rotting teeth and his weak cock.

His seed had been even weaker and not once had he left her with a child strong enough to live. Every time, she had lost them in a sea of blood or they had died shortly after birth.

Only once, after she had given herself to Petyr, had her womb quickened with a strong enough seed to live.

Her precious boy was the result of this night.

She knew she should feel regret, but she felt none. The Stark whore and her family had been the reason for all her woe.

She had waited fifteen long years to take revenge and to marry the one she had always meant to marry: her beloved Petyr.

“You look well, sweet Lysa,” he whispered softly as he pulled her into a loose embrace and kissed her hand. “Considering the ordeal you had to go through in King’s Landing.”

“The suffering was worth it,” Lysa whispered and wished he could hold her as he had held her a long time ago, on that distant night in Harrenhall, but she couldn’t risk it. There were eyes everywhere and for now she needed to play the grieving widow. “And your plan worked marvelously: the Stark whore lost her child and nearly perished herself. The rumors say she is barren.”

“There is no certainty of that,” Petyr said. “The poison does not lead to barrenness. It must be a rumor. Well, more important is that my actions put a wedge between the King and the Martells. They say, the King has banished all Dornish from court and has sent his Queen and second son North. Some say, to protect them and others say he banished them and is going to re-marry. Rumors upon rumors, but nothing is ever certain, sweet Lysa.”

“Do you think it will be enough?” Lysa asked, hope warming her heart like the sight of her precious boy. “And will we finally be wed?”

“Perhaps,” Petyr promised and brushed his hand along her arm, making her tremble with anticipation. “But my loss of Harrenhall makes it even more difficult. You are the widow of the Lord Paramount of the Vale. You cannot marry a minor Lord like me. For now, we must see how it all turns out. I think someone else is also trying to stir the flames. The incident with the youngest Prince was not my doing.”

“Who then?” Lysa asked. “The Lannisters or perhaps the Martells?”

“Neither Tywin Lannister nor Doran Martell would use a fool like Ser Gerold Dayne as their chosen tool. Whoever did this, is rather incompetent.”

“As you say, Petyr,” Lysa said and smiled when she saw her precious boy waving at Petyr, his true father. She could never tell her boy the full truth, but once she was wed to Petyr, he would be his true father. They would finally be a family. “So, now we wait?”

Petyr placed another kiss on her hand and waved his hand at his son. Again, her precious boy’s cheeks had change to a strangely pale color, snot dripping from his nose unto the doublet. Even so, her precious boy was smiling and her heart was glowing with pride.

“He is a fine boy,” Petyr said. “And we must make sure that his cousin does not get his hand on his titles.”

Lysa nodded her head in confirmation. “We shall protect him together.”

Petyr nodded his head. “Together.”

…


	44. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna watched as her little niece Arya was trying to salvage her needlework, a cloth embroidered with the wolf of Winterfell. When she was a child, Old Nan and mother made her embroider the cloaks of the guards with similar crests and it had always been a pain for her to do this kind of work, though she had eventually learned how to stitch in a passable manner.

Watching the other three girls, among them her older niece Sansa, Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassle, it was no surprise that Arya was unhappy being here. While the girls were giggling amongst each other Arya was trying to avoid her mother’s gaze. Usually, or at least that is what Lady Stark had told her, it was the Septa who was overseeing the children’s work, but today the elderly woman lay abed with a cold.

That Lady Stark had asked to join her had pleased Lyanna, though she had brought no embroidery, only a book.

All in all, it had been a pleasant evening, though she longed to ride out to the Wolfswood, something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.

Yet, that was not the reason she had wanted to come here. The reason she had come here was to make peace with her brother.

She had yet to speak to Ned and with every passing day it was getting harder.

“Arya,” Lady Catelyn’s voice called Lyanna back to the present. “Let me see how far you are?”

Arya frowned at that, but she didn’t hesitate to obey her mother and presented her work to her. Lyanna could not see much from the distance, but going by the girl’s constant frowning, she doubted it was to her satisfaction.

Lady Catelyn’s sigh confirmed her suspicions.

“It is crooked, isn’t it?” Arya asked and balled her fist when she heard Sansa’s and her friends’ giggling.

“A little,” Lady Stark said and handed Arya the embroidered piece of cloth. “But it is not as bad as you think. You will have to do some improvements, though. Then it will look proper.”

Arya exhaled deeply. “But I have already tried my best and it is not going to get any better, Lady Mother. I know it.”

The giggling only intensified, which made Lady Catelyn turn around to look at the flock giggling girls. “Instead of giggling like a flock of silly hens, you could offer your help to your sister, Sansa.”

Sansa stopped her giggling at once and dipped her head in an apologetic gesture.

Then, she rose to her feet and stepped forward to take in Arya’s work.

“See, it isn’t that bad,” Lady Catelyn added and pointed at the cloth. “And now do as I asked of you two.”

“Aye, Lady Mother,” Sansa replied politely, but she also looked as if wanted to do anything else. “Come along, Arya. Let’s go to my chamber.”

Arya looked just as unhappy and followed after her sister.

“And you two should attend back to your duties, my ladies,” Lady Catelyn added and waved her hands at the two girls that had remained seated. “The lessons are over.”

The girls obeyed and took their leave.

Lyanna closed the book in her lap and forced a smile over her lips as she noticed Lady Catelyn’s gaze resting on her.

Lyanna didn’t know how to speak to her brother’s wife, but that was no surprise. She hardly knew her nor did she have any reason to like Lyanna, considering that her father had lost his life due to the Rebellion.

_You must try_, Lyanna reminded herself and sucked in a deep breath. _You must try._

“Arya seems to show little interest in needlework,” Lyanna said at last. “I can understand her. I have never been particularly good at it either, because I held no interest for it.”

“The Septa thinks Arya is a lost cause,” Lady Catelyn replied tensely. “But I have to disagree with this notion. One shouldn’t stop doing something, just because it is hard. Besides, it will be expected of her. Benjen’s wife always brings her axe into Ned’s halls, but even she knows how to embroider her daughter’s clothing. I see not why my Arya cannot do the same for her future husband, especially if it were to be a man from the South.”

Lyanna couldn’t deny that truth, but she also knew how discouraging it to do something one was not particularly good at.

“So much is true,” Lyanna agreed at last and forced a smile over her lips. “But perhaps it would help Arya to pursue a different interest. I know it is not everyone’s cup of tea, but I enjoy riding, hunting and archery.”

“If I allowed Arya to pursue archery she would never leave the practice yard,” Lady Stark countered. “And she is already an excellent rider. At times, I fear she might break her neck. She is also far too boyish for her own good. I had hoped that by forcing her to pursue more womanly arts she would lose that trait.”

Lyanna nodded her head and bit back a sharp command. Her father used to say the same about her.

Thus, she tried her best to formulate a more polite reply.

“I am no expert on this matter, but trying to change one’s nature is rarely something that leads to much happiness,” Lyanna replied. “And to be honest, my Lady, I think it will make Arya pursue such boyish activities even more. I know what I am talking about, because I was much the same at Arya’s age. I carried around a wooden stick form the moment I first saw Brandon in the practice yard. Later I would beg him to teach me.”

“Truly?” Lady Catelyn asked in surprise. “And did he teach you?”

“He did,” Lyanna confirmed with a sad smile. “And Benjen continued his work after my father forbade it. We did it in secret. You see, what I am trying to say, my Lady…Isn’t it better for Arya to pursue her interests with your knowledge rather than behind your back?”

Lady Stark didn’t looked very convinced. “Perhaps, but it would also indicate that I am approving of such pursuits. How will Arya find a husband if she acts like a boy?”

“Even, I found myself a husband,” Lyanna countered. “I see no reason why a pretty girl like Arya wouldn’t.”

Lady Catelyn’s mouth changed to a firm line and her brows furrowed. “Do forgive my sharp words, but I do not approve how your found yourself a husband. And I have spent my whole childhood in the South…I can tell you. No man wants to wed a half a boy, but a proper lady to rear his children and know how to behave herself. Or is it different in the capital?”

“No,” Lyanna replied, knowing very well what the Lady thought of her , yet she kept these thoughts to herself. She came here to make peace, not enemies. “And I am well aware that there are plenty of lords who would disapprove of such behavior in a girl, but perhaps you should try finding a lord who does fits your daughter’s temperament instead of forcing Arya into a role she will never be able to fulfil. My father tried it and you know how it ended.”

Lady Catelyn narrowed her blue eyes in confusion. “And yet you are wed to the King of the Seven Kingdoms? Are you implying that the King allows you to carry a blade?”

“He does,” Lyanna confirmed, rose to her feet and smiled Lady Stark. “Though I am only doing it at Dragonstone. We spar too. It is something we share.”

Lady Stark was staring back at her in disbelief and Lyanna enjoyed her short victory, though she felt bad about her words afterwards. She knew very well that it had not been her business to council Lady Catelyn on her child-rearing, but then her quick mouth always got the better of her. It was simply in her nature.

Yet, the talk with Lady Catelyn had made her only more aware that she needed to speak with Ned.

Even so, she first went to seek out her son and her nephews.

It was late in the evening when she stepped out unto the practice yard, where the boys were hacking at each other with wooden swords. Their bright laughter could be heard from afar and when Lyanna saw Aemon she forgot about the cold.

He was exchanging blows with a tall boy, who wore a pink cloak wrapped around his shoulders. That her son was finally smiling again only confirmed that coming here was the right decision.

Lyanna didn’t join them, though. She didn’t want to interrupt their play and watched from the distance how Aemon got his ass handed to by the older boy, Ser Domeric Bolton, who knew had squired for Lord Redfort. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell were also there, watching them from the distance and rubbing their hands together to drive a way the cold.

“Your boy is a better swordsman than me,” Ned’s soft voice called her back from the present and caused her to turn around. He was standing atop the wooden gallery that allowed a commanding view over the ice-crusted courtyard. “Ser Arthur Dayne trained him well. In a few years he will be able to defeat seasoned knights older than his age, but today he lost.”

“He is a bit too proud for his own good. Losing humbles the character.”

“Brandon was much the same,” Ned remarked as he climbed down the stairs, his breath rising into the air like white steam. “And yet he never shied away from a fight.”

Lyanna nodded her head in acknowledgement. Speaking of her brother always pained her and Ned’s accusing look made it all the harder.

“I wish Brandon had been less brave. Then, he would still be with us,” Lyanna said and forced a smile over her lips. “Speaking of our brother, I wanted to ask you whether you could show me the way to the crypts.”

She saw no anger in Ned’s face, only a hint of surprise.

“Have you forgotten the way?”

Lyanna shook her head and folded her hands in front of her.

“Of course, I know the way, but you are the Lord of Winterfell now. I am only a guest.”

“This is your home,” Ned insisted. “I told you that upon your arrival. Do you doubt my sincerity?”

Lyanna laughed and grabbed Ned’s arm, to pull him towards the crypts.

“Well, then prove your sincerity and show me the way, Lord Stark.”

Ned nodded his head and patted her shoulder before leading the way.

The crypts looked just as she had recalled them. A winding staircase led into a never-ending darkness that was soon chased away by the glow of Ned’s latern.

The Kings and Lords of Winterfell greeted them as they passed. Some sat and some stood, some had lost their heads and some were still whole, some held rusty blades and others had only a loyal direwolf beside them to drive a way the ghosts of the past.

This place made her feel cold and confused. Only when Ned touched her arm did she realize that they had arrived at their goal.

“We have arrived.”

Lyanna wouldn’t have needed Ned’s confirmation. The stonemason had done good work in capturing her father’s likeness. He had the same stern face she recalled from her youth.

Brandon’s statue was different. Her oldest brother had always carried a brazen smiled, but this statue showed a solemn man with a handsome face. It felt less real and the sight made her even sadder. It felt like a sharp sting piercing her heart.

“The stonemason did good work with father’s statue,” Lyanna whispered for the lack of a better answer.

Ned was silent for a long time before he sucked in a deep breath and spoke.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Lyanna shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in a helpless manner.

“I didn’t want them to die…and I am sorry what happened. I cannot do more than that.”

Ned exhaled deeply and rubbed his hand over his face.

“No, you cannot, but I thought it would get easier to forget my grudge against the King.”

“Rhaegar misjudged the situation and so did Robert. I understand that you loved Robert like a brother, but the fact is…Rhaegar is the father of my children and Robert is dead.”

Ned’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I hold no grudge against the boy and his siblings. They are my niece and nephews and as long as I live I shall keep the peace. It is good that Robb and Prince Aegon get along or I would have feared for the future.”

“At least, something we can agree on, isn’t it, Ned?”

Ned stepped closer to take her hand in his own.

“Something we can agree on, Lya.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people want me for Ned to despise Lyanna, but she is his sister. I think I would forgive my own brother almost anything if she were to show that he is sorry. Being angry with someone doesn't change that you also love some aspects of a person. Ned loved Lyanna in the books well enough to hide her child from Robert, a man he seemed to prefer over most other friends of his. That kinda tells me that family is important to him.
> 
> It should also be noted that Ned is happy that Lyanna came home. It was what he wanted since he left for Winterfell after the Rebellion, since he thought Rhaegar a scoundrel who seduced his sister and fathered a bastard on her. His opinion is not much better now, but less intense as in the past.


	45. Viserys

**Viserys**

The heat was almost unbearable during the day, but at night the cool breeze coming from the sea helped to drive away Viserys’ discomfort.

Still, Lys was a dream come true, a true paradise. Its capital lay in a beautiful bay of cerulean waters and its city walls were made of the palest of sandstone. At times, when the midday day sun was falling upon the city walls and spiral towers, it looked as if the walls were made from shining marble.

Since their arrival in Lys, he had walked up and down to the battlements more than once and to watch the ships leaving and entering the harbor. Ysilla had accompanied him in the first weeks, but now she had suddenly fallen sick with a stomach illness and had to keep to bed.

Thus, Viserys had set out every day to find a proper employment among one of the merchants in the city. He was not used to hard work, but he could write and read High Valyrian better than most. He also understood the crude dialect of Bastard Valyrian common in Lys.

Even so, it felt strange to be a nobody. In Westeros everyone would have treated him differently just by looking at his silver hair, but now his hair was black and he called himself no longer Viserys, but Vaelis.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to paint his hair, but Ysilla had promised to do the same and thus he had eventually agreed: Viserys had painted his hair black and Ysilla had painted her hair red like the crimson flowers blooming in the gardens beneath their current dwelling place.

Like every morning, he found the harbor crowded with merchants, peddlers and travelers. The sheer amount of them felt suffocating as did the sharp smell of incense and spice.

Slowly, Viserys walked along the harbor, pale walls rising as he went and counted the colorful banners of the ships.

There were four galleys from Pentos, two smaller ships from Norvos, at least three ships from Braavos and one from Westeros.

Viserys avoided the Westerosi and Braavosi galleys and made his way to the Pentoshi merchant. He was a tall man with a hawke-like nose and flowing green robes that were held together by a leather belt and a silver buckle.

The man’s lips twisted upwards as he noticed Viserys’ presence.

“Welcome, friend!” the man greeted and spread his arms. “I can offer the finest Myrish silk and spice from Yi Ti! I can also offer wine from Ghiscar and silver from Meereen!”

Viserys bowed his head.

“I do not wish to buy,” Viserys said and searched the man’s gaze. “I am a newcomer to this city and fluent in High Valyrian. I also speak the Common Tongue better than most people hailing from these lands. Do you have use for a capable hand?”

Unlike, some of his fellow merchants, this man was smiling at him and waved his hand at one of the Braavosi galleys.

“Carbrellso has always need of capable writers,” the man explained and waved his hand back at his wares. He was obviously hoping that Viserys would buy something from him in exchange for this valuable piece of information. “He trades with wine from the Reach and Ghiscar.”

Viserys nodded his head in understanding and decided to play along, his gaze wandering over a beautiful violet cloth.

“I think I will take this one, but I haven not need of all of it. I only need so much cloth to cover the slender form of a young girl. One roll should be enough.”

“Ah, a true beauty, eh?” the man asked and smiled slyly. “For two gold coins and three silver you can have as much as you want.”

Viserys was no expert, but even was sure this price was too much and that the man would think ill of him if he didn’t at least attempt to haggle with him.

“One gold coin and six silver coins,” Viserys replied, but the man shook his head in disapproval.

“Two cold coins and one silver.”

“Two gold coins,” Viserys countered quickly and sucked in a deep breath. Sweat was already rolling down his cheeks. “And that is my last offer.”

The man frowned. “Accepted, though you are a not as kind as I thought, Westerosi.”

Viserys laughed. “Once I have settled I will buy more. My lady has need of more clothing.”

The man’s face lightened up like a room full of candles.

“Ah, a man with a sense for the future. Well, I shall welcome you back. And give my Braavosi friend my greetings.”

Viserys did that and as it turned out…this Carbrellso, a fat merchant from Braavos, was pleased to welcome Viserys as a writer to join his services.

Past midday, Viserys returned to his humble dwelling place, a two-storied building covered with a shiny red roof and yellow doors. The owner was the widow of a tavern owner, who had agreed to an acceptable rent after Viserys had haggled with her for hours. He also had the feeling that the widow had only accepted the price, because she had taken a great liking to his little wife.

It was no surprise to him. Ysilla was easy to love, though she had hardly spoke the widow’s native tongue.

When he entered, he could already hear her soft laughter, like the sound of the bells the courtesans of Lys put around their ankles.

The widow and his little wife sat over their embroidery, a spacious room with white-washed walls and greenery meandering its way along the balcony that lead out to the gardens.

“Viserys!” Ysilla exclaimed and pulled herself to her feet. She was quick to place a kiss on his arm before she pulled him towards the table where she had laid out all kinds of delicious dishes: spicy peppers, beans and roasted pig covered in honey. “We waited for you.”

Viserys thanked her and sat down, eying the food with great interest.

The widow excused herself and went to attend to one of the other tenants.

“How was your search?”

“Successful,” Viserys confirmed in obvious relief. “The payment should be sufficient, but the post is limited until the beginning of the next dry season.”

Ysilla nodded her head and crawled into his lap. “That means we are safe for the next year. A good thing, considering the special circumstances I am finding myself in.”

Viserys eyed his little wife in confusion. “Special circumstances? Are you sick?”

She chuckled and brushed his hair out of his face. “Oh, no silly. It seems I am with child.”

Viserys’ heart made a jump.

“Are you sure?”

Ysilla laughed and cradled his face between her hands. “I am sure.”

…


	46. Aegon

**Aegon**

“Do you want to wear both your cloak and sword, brother?” Gaemon asked after Aegon had pulled on his boots. He wore black breeches, a pale silken tunic and polished boots. Only his cloak was missing.

“Aye,” Aegon confirmed and smiled at his brother. “The cloak with the rubies seems appropriate for a wedding, but no sword.”

Gaemon nodded his head and went to fetch his cloak from the strongbox.

“Here,” Gaemon said and offered the garment to Aegon. This cloak was older than his father, one of his grand-grandfather’s ceremonial cloak. “But why no sword? You are a knight and you would look far more imposing.”

Aegon chuckled as he picked the cloak form Gaemon’s hands to fasten the it around his shoulders.

The cloak was made of the sleekest of material, heavy brocade with a three-headed dragon emblazoned on its back.

“Nobody wears a sword at a wedding, not even the Kingsguard. It would be against the guest right.”

“Oh,” Gaemon said, his purple eyes growing wide. “I forgot about that. Forgive me, brother.”

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

“You have never been to a wedding, so there is no reason for you to know, brother. Stop apologizing for something that isn’t your fault.”

Gaemon smiled and brushed out his tunic. He wore simpler finery: a black tunic, greyish breeches and a red cloak that was fastened with a silver pin fashioned in the form of a dragon and wolf.

His silver locks had also been shorted. It had been Aegon’s idea, because it was unpractical for a squire to wear his hair so long.

“I thank you,” Gaemon said. “Shall we go to find the girls?”

With girls, he was referring to Lady Shireen, his Aunt Daenerys, Lady Shireen and Lady Allyria Dayne.

“Don’t call them girls,” Aegon corrected him and patted his shoulder. “It is disrespectful. Call them ladies.”

“Oh, I see,” Gaemon said and nodded his head. “Shall we go now?”

“We shall go,” Aegon confirmed and pulled his brother out to the corridor, where they found Ser Gerold Hightower waiting for him in company of two guardsman. He wore his finest armor, his chest plate polished like a looking glass and his cloak as pale as fresh-fallen snow.

“Are you ready, your Grace?” the elderly knight asked.

“We are ready,” Aegon answered.

As expected, they found Ser Barristan standing guard, an amused smile crossing over his lips when he noticed their presence.

“The ladies are still busy. Do you want me to inquire if your presence is wanted?”

“We would appreciate that,” Aegon replied with a nod of his head. “Please speak to them Ser Barristan.”

Ser Barristan did as they had asked of him and stepped inside. They only heard muffled voices before the door opened again and Ser Barristan appeared in company of a golden-haired girl. It was Lady Myrcella Lannister, her green eyes filled with mirth.

“You may enter,” Lady Myrcella informed them and flashed Gaemon a bright smile. “We are nearly ready.”

“I thank you, my Lady Lannister,” Aegon replied and leaned down to kiss her hand. Gaemon followed suit and kissed her hand before they entered the spacious chamber.

Like most chambers in Storm’s End, it was a round room with high walls and narrow windows. The walls were furnished with colorful tapestries and the furnishing was made from blackwood that grew aplenty in these lands. It was particularly shiny and robust or so his grandmother had once told Aegon when she had acquired new furnishing for Dragonstone.

The girls shared two chambers, Lady Shireen sharing hers with Lady Myrcella and Daenerys sharing hers with Lady Allyria.

This had confused Aegon at first, for his bride-to-be could have easily demanded her old chambers, but had refused on the account that she enjoyed having someone’s company.

Aegon found them standing in front of a looking glass, a round plate that was fastened on a wooden table.

Lady Shireen was standing atop a chair and Daenerys behind her. The younger girl wore a dress made of golden brocade and a hairnet made from an equally shining thread. His Aunt posed a sharp contrast to her in her dark violet dress. It was made of a sleek material and in the Dornish style, which was usually less tight and lacked a chemise around the bosom. Instead it was fastened with a pale sash, though unlike most Dornish dresses, the sleeves were quite long and kept in a lighter shade of silver and pink. It reminded him of the wings of a dragon and suited the circlet resting atop her long silver locks.

What made them contrast each other even more was the fact that, Lady Shireen wore her inky hair open. It helped to soften her features and made him think of Rhaenys.

Shame washed over him when he noticed her smile.

“You look well, your Grace,” she told him in a quiet, but determined voice, as Daenerys helped her to climb down from the chair. “And you as well, Prince Gaemon. You look almost like a man grown.”

Gaemon beamed.

“I thank you, my Lady,” he replied and lowered his head in reverence. “You are also very beautiful. I think your hair is very pretty. Like a starry nightsky.”

Aegon felt a hint of embarrassment when he noticed how flattered Lady Shireen seemed by his brother’s compliment.

She giggled softly and patted her cheek, which had changed to rosy color.

“Indeed,” Aegon agreed quickly and touched his brother’s shoulder. “All of you look like a dream.”

“Good to hear,” Daenerys replied and knocked at the door leading into the other chamber. “Allyria…it is time to go.”

A moment later, Allyria Dayne emerged, clad in a pale dress and a violet cloak, fastened with a shining clasp in the form of a falling star. She was very beautiful as she loomed over Daenerys, but as so often she lacked a true smile.

“Indeed,” Lady Myrcella added and clutched the skirt of her bright crimson dress that suited the red rubies in her hair. Then, she twirled around once and twice, her laughter echoing through the chamber like the sound of soft bells. “But first I need to get your approval, Gaemon.”

Gaemon eyed her from head to toe. “You look like a dream.”

Lady Myrcella smiled and took his arm, pulling him towards the door. “Good, then let us go.”

“Indeed,” Lady Shireen added quietly beside him, but made no attempt to Aegon’s arm.

“Indeed,” Aegon agreed and offered his arm. “We should go or Arianne will be displeased if she finds him us missing.”

…

His cousin’s wedding feast was a jolly affair, though Storm’s End wasn’t exactly the place Aegon would have chosen for a wedding. Still, it couldn’t be helped since his father and Dorne were currently waging a cold war against each other.

Arianne, who was seated next to her future husband Lord Renly, seemed quite pleased. Her stunning red dress, with a rather revealing bosom and the golden tiara resting atop her head made her appear like a true Princess. Only her smile was brighter and Lord Renly didn’t seem displeased either. He was smiling and laughed whenever his cousin whispered something in his ear.

Lord Stannis was a far cry from that. He had stoically endured the entire ceremony in the Sept and now he was constantly clenching his teeth, as he was listening to his wife’s rattling voice.

Shireen hadn’t lied when she had told him that her mother had the tendency to be overbearing.

Other than that and the strange rules she was imposing on her daughter, she was a pleasant and stunningly beautiful women. In fact, her silver-golden hair reminded Aegon of his Aunt Daenerys, though they had little else in common. Her face was sharper and her eyes were green, something shared with her kin. Shireen had inherited little from her, besides her slender build and her straight nose. No, his bride to be was all a Baratheon, but much more pleasant to look at than her grim father.

In fact, Shireen seemed much more at ease since they had come here to Storm’s End. She was constantly talking and had even danced with several of her father’s bannermen…and his squire. Seeing them laugh, made Aegon think on Rhaenys, who had been asked to return to the Reach, though Aegon was sure she would have liked to come to the Stormlands to celebrate their cousin’s wedding.

_I have my duties as future Lady of the Reach_, she had excused herself, but Aegon knew very well why she had returned and what these duties included. _To bear an heir._

It wasn’t like he didn’t understand Lord Mace Tyrell’s wish for an heir, but he had three sons and a daughter. There was no reason to pressure his sister just so he could go around and say that he had a grandchild of Targaryen blood.

Still, watching his brother Gaemon step on Myrcella Baratheon’s feet and Lady Allyria Dayne and his Aunt twirling each other in wild circles, made him long for his sister’s presence.

Aegon had never been a particularly good dancer and neither was his sister. If she was here they could embarrass themselves together.

“You are not much of a dancer are you, your Grace?” a sullen voice caused him to turn around. It was Joffrey Lannister, who loomed half and head over Aegon. He was an incredibly tall boy for his age, his face even-shaped and framed by golden locks that were reminiscent of beaten gold. Only his wormy lips dimmed his beauty. “Makes me glad my betrothed is not here to pester me into it.”

Aegon took a moment to regain his composure. He had never interacted with the boy beyond pleasantries and he had only recently joined court to serve as Ser Jaime’s squire.

“I have two left feet,” Aegon replied at last and fingered his cup. “My mother tried her best, but I fear it is no use.”

“Well, your Lady is a fine dancer,” Joffrey whispered, a strange smile playing on his lips as she eyed Shireen from the distance. “At least something, but otherwise very plain.”

Aegon didn’t like the sound of that, but then he recalled that the boy was a Lannister.

Aegon also realized that Joffrey’s impression of the situation was partly caused by Aegon.

He hadn’t shared a single dance with Shireen.

Even so, she didn’t want to be impolite. The boy was the heir to the Westerlands.

“She will be my Queen not a courtesan,” Aegon replied. “They say Queen Alysanne was no stunning beauty either and she was still a good Queen.”

Joffrey didn’t seem to take it as an insult and laughed.

”Well said. I am sure you will find yourself some beautiful wench to warm your bed while your bride bears your heirs.”

Aegon nodded his head and rose to his feet. He had heard enough.

“I shall try my best, but perhaps that won’t be necessary,” he replied and went to seek out his future bride.

He had not planned to dance, but sometimes one needed to do the right thing, even if it was embarrassing.

Lady Shireen was whispering with his Aunt and Lady Allyria Dayne, when he stepped closer and offered his hand.

“Would you perhaps care for a dance, Lady Shireen?”

Shireen’s blue eyes were filled with curiosity and her cheeks turned red within the matter of a heartbeat.

“I would love to dance,” she replied at last and smiled.

It was a warm smile, but it didn’t make him feel the same way as Rhaenys’ smile made him feel.

The thought filled him with shame, but when he felt the pull of Lady Shireen’s hand on his arm, he followed after her like a blind man after his caretaker.

The tune was jolly and would have been easy to follow for someone with a talent for dancing, but Aegon was none of that.

And it showed. They had barely moved a handful of steps before he made Lady Shireen gasp in pain.

“Ah, my apologies,” he muttered, but Lady Shireen smiled and showed him the direction.

“Just one step after another,” Lady Shireen advised him and chuckled when he nearly stumbled over his feet. “Careful.”

Aegon felt his cheeks burn and tried his best to follow through with the rest of the steps. Yet, he was even more relieved the music stopped.

“You did rather well,” Lady Shireen complimented him, her voice laced with amusement.

“I am a horrible dancer,” he corrected her and she laughed. His heart warmed when he heard her laugh and there was also hint of relief. He had feared that he might have insulted her. “So much is clear, but I thought it would be unseemly if we don’t dance at all.”

Shireen nodded her head and waved her hand at the high table. “No, need for apologizes…It seems the bedding is being called and your cousin is in need of your assistance.”

Aegon looked over his shoulder and saw that the male guests were already pushing on his cousin’s clothing.

Yet, unlike many other innocent maidens, Arianne didn’t seem at all bothered by the attention. Even when one of the lordlings dared to touch her bosom did she brush his hand away and flashed the man a dazzling smile.

As Aegon followed after the cheering crowd, that was escorting Princess Arianne to her bridal chamber, he noticed that Lord Renly was less pleased to receive the attention of these ladies, pulling on his clothes.

It was an odd thing to say, but it seemed as if the roles were exchanged in this wedding. Lord Renly looked like the hesitant bride and his cousin seemed as calm as a winter’s lake, though he knew from Tyene that Arianne had not been pleased when her father had announced the match.

Aegon kept his distance, as the eager men undressed his cousin. In fact, he would have preferred to leave, but then people might start spreading rumors about him like many had done with Lord Renly.

And it wasn’t like the sight of his cousin’s nakedness was unpleasant to behold nor did he think that Arianne was particularly bothered by it, but he had never understood the appeal of the bedding.

There were thousand things, Aegon wanted to do than to have his cock appraised by strangers.

In that sense, he felt great respect for Lord Renly that he was willing to endure this nonsense.

“Lord Renly seemed hesitant,” Gaemon said later when they had left the ladies’ presence. “Does he not like Princess Arianne?”

Aegon didn’t know what to say. He doubted his younger brother would understand if he tried to explain Lord Renly’s situation to him.

“Well, not everyone is eager to be wed,” Aegon replied and forced a smile over his lips. “Some need more time to get comfortable with this kind of arrangement.”

Understanding showed on the Gaemon’s face, as she leaned closer. “I see…I am also wondering…What exactly are they doing in there and why did they have to undress for it?”

Aegon bit his lips and felt suddenly very helpless. He had never expected his younger brother would ask him such questions.

“Well, they…they are attempting to make a child. That is after all the reason they are marrying. House Baratheon needs more heirs and it is only natural that a young man marries at a reasonable age.”

Gaemon didn’t look convinced. “So, people only marry to make babies? That sounds like a stupid reason to marry.”

“I suppose,” Aegon agreed hesitatingly. “Well, some people marry for other reasons that just to make babies. Some marry because they like each other…like your mother and _our_ father.”

“That makes much more sense,” Gaemon said and started to play with the hem of his tunic. “But what exactly do they do? Maybe they do it like the horses, but if that is how people make babies…Well, it looks really unpleasant.”

Aegon exhaled deeply and tried to find the right words, but failed miserably.

“Listen, Gaemon,” he said and leaned closer to touch his shoulder. “I think that is something you should speak about with father.”

Gaemon looked terrified. “I could never speak with father about this. Why can’t you just tell me? Is it a secret?”

Aegon exhaled deeply and dropped his hand. He wanted to refuse his brother a second time, but then he recalled how embarrassing his first encounter with a naked girl had been.

Aegon cleared his throat.

“Well, I suppose…Let me explain it...”

…


	47. Aemon

**Aemon**

The oldest Stark girl was holding tightly unto his arm, as they stamped along the ice-crusted path that led to the godswood. Even from afar, he could see the steam rising from the pools of water his mother had told about when he was a little child. It made him feel the sudden longing for a hot bath. It also made him wish Dany was here with him.

Yet, Dany was far away in King’s Landing and he was here in the icy North with his nieces and nephews. One of them was still clinging to his arm, and the younger one was leading the way, stamping with heavy steps through the snow.

They couldn’t look any more different from each other. Sansa looked like a true lady and could have easily been at home in the Court of Roses, but Arya was more like his mother and his younger sister Alysanne. She not only had a rather tomboyish streak, she was also very blunt, something that made Aemon immediately like her.

Not that he disliked Sansa and his other cousins. On the contrary, he found Sansa to be a kind girl and Bran’s mischievousness reminded him very much of his brother Gaemon. His Uncle he liked too, although he had yet to find the right moment to speak with him in private. He was a humble and friendly man, but less outgoing than his Uncle Benjen and there less approachable.

Lady Stark was also polite to him as well, but he could always feel the tension whenever his mother was in her presence. Aemon knew why that was the case: his father had taken the head of Lord Hoster Tully for his treason during Robert’s Rebellion.

Truly, it must be hard for her to welcome them here in Winterfell. Aemon didn’t know how he would react to the murderer of his father.

Yet, it seemed all worth it, for when he looked back and spotted his mother leading young Lady Arra Stark on her hands, he saw her smile like in the old times.

He didn’t voice his thoughts openly, but since Uncle Benjen’s wife Dacey had arrived in company of his little girl, his mother had changed completely.

She was no longer hiding away inside the grey walls of Winterfell, but had taken up her old pleasures. She was riding out every morning, which seemed to delight Arya. Then, before midday she would usually join them to watch them practice sword play before taking their fast in each other’s company.

This was always very amusing to behold, for Arya and Sansa were constantly at each other’s throats.

Aemon also liked Winterfell, though he mostly kept the company of the boys. There was Domeric Bolton, an excellent swordsman that had bested him numerous times in the previous weeks. He was also quite polite, though he was always glaring at him when Sansa was in his presence. Then, there was of course Robb and another boy, a certain Cley Cerwyn, who was constantly trying to impress Arya, who showed more interest in her grey palfrey horse than the young lordling.

“We are almost there!” Arya exclaimed cheerfully and pointed at the large tree with a pale bark and beautiful red leaves that reminded of rubies. “This is the heart tree of Winterfell!”

Aemon marveled at the tree’s beauty and wanted to do nothing more than to touch the bark, but the girl beside him was still grabbing tightly unto his arm.

“Sansa, let our cousin go or he won’t be able to take a look at the tree,” Arya complained and waved her hand at him.

Sansa blushed and Aemon was freed from her clasp.

Smiling, he pulled off his gloves and touched the bark of the tree, right above the ugly grimace.

“They say the Children of the Forest made these,” his mother added softly and chuckled as young Arra stumbled towards Aemon.

She too had inherited the Stark looks, but her hair was black like her mother’s and her eyes were lighter in color.

“Why did they paint the tree?” Arra asked Lyanna and pulled on her long sleeve. “They are scary.”

“They are only scary because you are little,” Arya assured her. “When you are bigger you won’t be afraid of anything.”

Arra gave her a disbelieving look. “You are lying, Arya.”

“Arya is just talking big,” Sansa added softly, but with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “She is even afraid of _our_ Septa.”

“I am not!” Arya snapped back and threw a handful of snow on Sansa’s face.

She squeaked like a pig and shook her head in disgust.

“You are horrible, Arya Stark!”

And the situation would have probably escalated further if their mother hadn’t picked up a handful of snow and had thrown it at Arya.

The girl was star-struck for a moment before she picked up another handful of snow to throw it at his mother.

Within the blink of a moment, everything descended into a snowball fight. Arya was laughing and bombarding Sansa with snowballs while Sansa was screaming at the top of her lungs.

His mother wasn’t idle either. She was soon adding her strength to Sansa while Aemon sided with Arya, throwing one snowball after another.

Even Arra tried to make a handful of snowballs, but most of them dropped on the ground before they reached their intended target.

When they returned to Winterfell, they were freezing.

Lady Stark nearly had a fit when she saw Sansa, though his mother had covered her with her thick fur coat.

Both girls received a chiding and were soon ushered away, probably to change their clothing.

Supper was a pleasant affair. Robb was recounting tales about girls and the hunt while Bran was eagerly listening.

Occasionally, Aemon saw him glimpse over to the opposite table, where Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell where seated among the guardsmen.

After three weeks, they had finally gotten used to the cold, though Ser Arthur always asked to be seated beside the brazier.

“Cousin,” Bran addressed Aemon across the table. He was usually shy. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Aemon replied and played with his wooden spoon. They had broth, simple broth with honey and dark bread. It was no bad by any means, but he longed for his favorite dishes. “Ask away.”

“Well, I wondered whether Ser Arthur is in need of a squire?”

Aemon shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know, but I think he is going to take on his nephew Edric Dayne. He is of the right age to be a squire and more importantly, he is his kin.”

“Oh,” Bran said in obvious disappointment. “What about Ser Oswell?”

“His current squire is old enough to be knighted,” Aemon replied and smiled at the boy. “I could speak to him if you wish, but you should also inform your father and mother about your plans. It would be unseemly if I made plans on your behalf without your family knowing about it, though I doubt they will think it strange for a boy of your aiming to be a knight.”

Bran’s face lightened up like a room full of candles. “Not only a knight…I aim to become a knight of the Kingsguard.”

Aemon was surprised to hear that. Bran was the spare heir. He doubted Lord Stark would agree allow Bran to become a member of the Kingsguard.

“I could speak with your father,” Aemon offered, though Bran was not the only reason. He had always intended to speak in private with his Uncle concerning his travel to the Wall. “What do you say?”

“Am I bothering you, Uncle?” he asked, as he entered his solar, a long room furnished with a hearth made from red stone, tables, chairs shelves made from red Ironwood and two bear furs spread over the floor. Maester Luwin was also there, a raven seated before him and feasting on corn.

“You are not bothering me, nephew,” his Uncle assured him quickly and jerked his head at Maester Luwin. “And I think Maester Luwin can feed his raven elsewhere.”

The Maester’ eyes widened in recognition and he quickly scrambled to his feet.

“Of course, I shall attend to my duties,” he threw back and dipped his head in reverence. Then, he left the bird seated atop his shoulder.

“I wanted to inform you that I intend to ride for the Wall,” Aemon explained his intentions to his Uncle. “I would be pleased if you could afford to give me with a guard. Ser Oswell would also accompany me.”

His Uncle smiled. “Of course. Was that ever a question?”

“No,” Aemon replied and stepped towards the table. “I just thought your men might not be pleased to accompany me.”

“Don’t expect them to flatter you all day. We Northmen are not known for our courtesy,” his Uncle replied, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them again. “We are rather blunt people.”

Aemon exhaled deeply. “People from South are not all empty flatterers and liars, Uncle. I also think we should focus on what we have in common rather than what separates us. That would make our life much easier.”

“That is true, nephew,” his Uncle agreed and walked towards the hearth to stir the flames back to life. He was devoid of his usual fur cloak. It made him appear shorter and less imposing. “But most people don’t think like that. I am also surprised that you are not intending to take Ser Arthur with you.”

“My mother has need of his protection and they get along very well,” Aemon explained and sat down in the chair beside the hearth.

He watched flames rise and dip. Colors of gold, red and orange changed in the matter of a heartbeat, creating a beautiful pattern of colors before Aemon’s eyes.

“There is another matter I wanted to speak with you about,” Aemon added after he had recalled Bran’s wish. “Bran asked me whether Ser Arthur is in need of a squire.”

His Uncle didn’t seem displeased. Merely surprised, but not at all displeased.

“Bran always dreamed of becoming a knight,” he said at last and rose to his feet. The fire was roaring now and Aemon found it pleasant to hold his hand over the flames. Then, his Uncle turned to look at Aemon. “Does Ser Arthur have need of a squire?”

“No,” Aemon replied and leaned back in his chair. “But I am sure Ser Oswell would take him if I asked him. He can be a bit grumpy, but at the end of the day he is a good and fair taskmaster. That is if you agree with the idea, Uncle.”

“I was eight when my father sent me to the Eyrie,” his Uncle replied. “He is certainly old enough, but my wife might think differently. He is her little boy.”

“It is not my decision to make,” Aemon replied and searched his Uncle’s gaze. “Perhaps you want to use my and Ser Oswell’s absence from Winterfell to speak with Lady Stark about _this_ delicate matter.”

“A good idea,” his Uncle agreed. “But I would prefer if you kept this to yourself until I have spoken to Lady Stark.”

“Of course,” Aemon replied and graced his Uncle with a smile. He was very pleased to help Bran. “I will keep _this_ matter to myself.”

…


	48. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany had never thought it possible that so many books could exist in one place. Her brother’s library was extensive and the library in Dragonstone also provided plenty of reading material, but that was nothing compared to the Citadel. Layer upon layer the Citadel was filled with books, tomes, parchments and other material that had been written in ancient tongues long past.

Dany could only marvel at its abundance, as she walked past another shelves, made of white cedarwood and filled with stacks of dusty tomes, the history of the Targaryen Kings.

_Three-hundred years of history_, she thought as she brushed her hand over thick tomes. _A miracle that some people have the patience to write down all of this._

She was sure that her brother Rhaegar would agree with her if he was here, because there was nothing beyond his harp and his Lady Lyanna, that her brother loved more than books.

When she was a young child she had often found him reading until the candles had burned low and sometimes she had fallen asleep in the chair beside the hearth until he had carried her back to her bed.

Now Dany herself was overcome by the deep longing to bury her nose in one of these books. Especially, the books about the Dance of Dragons was tempting, but whenever she wanted to pick a book from the shelve, one of the young acolytes stared at her as if she was some sort of otherworldly appearance that didn’t belong in their blessed halls.

Only Lady Shireen, seemed completely unfazed by these men. She stopped at every second shelves, read over the titles and when she liked one, she would write down the title on a piece of parchment.

So far, this process had repeated itself a good dozen of times and had earned quizzical looks by the acolytes.

Aegon, however, seemed almost lost in this maze of bookshelves and Maesters. He was obviously trying to show interest in Lady Shireen’s books, but Dany could see that this was not the kind of place he had wanted to visit in Oldtown.

“Do they have books about dragons, Sam?” Aegon asked when Marwyn’s constantly flustered assistant appeared with a stack of books in his arms. His name was Samwell Tarly, the oldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly.

“Sure,” Sam stuttered and pointed on the opposite corridor, lined by two large pillars of black basalt. “It is over there, but you won’t find anything new on this topic, your Grace.”

Aegon nodded his head and took Shireen’s arm. Together they walked towards the corridor while Dany remained where she was.

“Have you read these books, Sam?” she asked the boy, who was sweating and huffing, as he put the books back where they belonged.

“I tried reading as much as I can, but there are too many books and not enough time, Princess,” he replied. “Is there a particular book you are searching for?”

“Not really,” Dany replied and shrugged her shoulders. “I just wondered how anyone could read all these books without ruining their eyes.”

Sam chuckled and blushed. “A good question, Princess.”

Dany was not surprised by Sam’s reaction, but unlike the other acolytes he was at least talking to her and not creepily staring at her from the distance.

“Say, why are these boys staring at me like that?” Dany asked Sam. “Do I have something on my face?”

“They are simply not used to the presence of women,” Marwyn’s always agitated voice interrupted them, his brown robes sweeping behind him like a dirty rag. “Although most of these young men enjoy rutting them when visiting the taverns near the harbor. “That you are a Targaryen only adds to your exotic touch, sweet Princess.”

Dany didn’t know if this answer was meant as a consolation or a compliment. She smiled at him and threw a glance at the book in his hands. It looked freshly bound.

“Did you write this book?” she asked.

Marwyn showed her the book, a hint of a smile curling on his lips. “Your brother the King asked me to copy this book for him. It is a chronicle about tales from the East.”

This roused Dany’s curiosity. “Tales from the East? I know my brother is fond of these kind of tales, but it surprises me that he employs an Archmaester to copy a book for him.”

Marwyn nodded his head and graced Dany with a warm smile.

“The book I copied in only accessible to an Archamaester of the Citadel.”

This roused Dany’s curiosity only more, but she doubted Rhaegar would tell about it. He was very secretive about certain matters.

“Say, good Maester, is it possible that there are more books about dragons that are only accessible to an Archmaester lie you?”

Marwyn sighed and nodded his head in confirmation.

“There are plenty, many of them written in a complicated dialect of High Valyrian. I have studied languages all my life and I can tell you…Copying and translating is a difficult task. Sam is very useful. His High Valyrian is excellent.”

Dany was impressed and looked over to Sam. “Is that true?”

Sam blushed. “I always had a secret love for High Valyrian poetry.”

“I see,” Dany chuckled and smiled when she noticed that Aegon and Lady Shireen had returned. They were laughing and whispering to each other. It was a good thing. Rhaenys had feared Aegon might not warm up to Lady Shireen, but it seemed she was wrong on that account. “Nephew, Lady Shireen. I think it is time for us to return.”

Aegon looked smiled, but Lady Shireen looked disappointed.

“I think we should first search for Lady Myrcella and Lady Allyria. By now, they must be finished with their walk along the harbor.”

It was true. Aegon had assigned Ser Gerold and his guards to protect the ladies while Ser Barristan had accompanied them to the Citadel with an equal number of guardsmen and some additional men from House Hightower and House Baratheon.

“Then, we ought to hurry,” Dany agreed and looked over to Marwyn, who was stacking fresh books in Samwell Tarly’s hands. “What about you, Archmaester Marwyn? Lord Hightower invited you as well.”

Marwyn simply waved his hand at them. “I shall stay for at least two more days, then I shall join.”

Dany was just about to turn around, when Marwyn called after them.

“Could you take the book with you, Princess? I would sleep lighter if it was in the right hands.”

Dany nodded her head and lifted the book from the table.

“I shall hand the book to one of our trusted guardsmen to deliver it to my chambers.”

With these words they parted.

It was long past midday, when they reached the harbor, filled with the smell of sweat, salt and fish. It was an impressive sight to behold all these foreign people. There were merchants from Pentos, spice traders from YI TI, courtesans from Lys, a half-naked boy that was making summersaults and another one that was playing a jolly song on his flute.

Many more such beautiful sights presented themselves to her and her travelling companions. Aegon was soon enraptured by a merchant selling swords, Lady Shireen acquired a book from a peddler while Dany found great joy in observing a group of mummers perform.

Especially, the man juggling torches fascinated her and the way the flames changed colors whenever he circled around himself.

“Fire is a beautiful substance, isn’t it?” a sultry voice remarked beside her and caused Dany to turn around. It was a woman, garbed in a shining crimson robe. Her hair was just as red and the way her long sleeves swayed, reminded her of flames. “A true blessing by the one true god.”

Dany didn’t know what to say and the guardsman beside her stepped closer to inquire whether _this_ strange woman was bothering her.

“I am well,” she assured him. Then, she smiled at the Lady.

“What is the name of your god, my Lady?”

The Red Lady pursed her crimson lips.

“R’hllor, the God of Light, the only God. Have you heard of him?”

“I think I have heard of him,” Dany replied and smiled. “But I am surprised to find someone of your belief in Oldtown. The Faith is most revered in this city…they will not like your presence here, my Lady.”

“I was a slave once,” the Lady replied and returned Dany’s smile. “I shall know no fear, as long as my god is with me.”

Dany was impressed: She had been raised in the Faith of the Seven, but she had never considered herself a strong believer.

“What you are saying sounds truly inspiring, my Lady.”

The Lady gave her curious look. “Is that so? Are you interested to hear a sermon?”

Dany shrugged her shoulders. She was not interested, but she didn’t want to appear impolite.

“I fear I have no time,” Dany said when she noticed Lady Allyria waving at her. “My friend is waiting for me.”

If the Lady was insulted it didn’t show on her face. On the contrary, she graced Dany with a dazzling smile.

“Then, we shall speak at another time…Princess Daenerys Targaryen. This is a promise.”

Dany was so perplexed by the woman’s answer that she hadn’t even managed a proper reply before she had vanished into the crowd.

“Who was that?” Lady Allyria asked, her voice laced with mistrust. “One of the mummers?”

“No,” Dany replied and felt a sudden bout of sickness washing over her. It was not the first time, but took a moment before the sickness abated. “She…she was a Priestess of the Red God and she was very kind to me. Oddly, she knew my name.”

“A heathen women in Oldtown?” Lady Myrcella asked later, after they had returned to their residence. “That is an odd thing indeed. Do you think she was spying on us?”

“Perhaps,” Dany replied and shrugged her shoulders. “But whatever she had in mind, she promised we would see each other again.”

“This is utter nonsense,” Lady Allyria added. “These Red Women believe themselves soothsayers. She probably just wanted your coin.”

“Probably,” Lady Myrcella agreed and touched Dany’s cheek. “My, you are hot. I think you should see a Maester.”

Dany touched her cheeks. She hadn’t even noticed the heat. Was it a fever? If so, she felt no discomfort. Only this feeling of sickness, lingering in her stomach like a heavy stone.

“I am well,” she assured her friends. “I am just tired.”

…


	49. Aemon

**Aemon**

Aemon chewed slowly, the bread dry and stale in his mouth. He tried to hide his displeasure, but he had come here to make friends not to complain like a spoiled little boy.

Thus, he swallowed the piece of bread and washed it down with a gulp of mulled wine.

This kind of brew tasted much better and helped to warm up after a long day on the practice yard.

His mother had always called him half a Northman, but even after he had spent two moons in the North he had yet to get used to the cold.

The travel to the North had been exhausting. At times, he had feared his balls might freeze off, but whenever he had looked at his mother, he had realized that he had done the right thing.

She was smiling and she had even ridden a good part of the way.

A year in the North and she will be back to normal, Aemon mused as he emptied the rest of his cup.

The broth was also gone and he didn’t dare to ask for a second bowl.

“Was the food to your taste, your Grace?” the Old Bear inquired across the table. He was an old man with a pale beard and grey eyes. The heavy black cloak resting atop his shoulders made him appear even more impressive.

“It was excellent,” Aemon lied and smiled back at the elderly Lord Commander. “Especially, the wine. It helped to warm up my frozen body.”

“You shouldn’t have exhausted yourself so much,” the Old Bear replied. “These green boys from the south suffer more than boys from the North. They either make it through the worst of winter or wither away like the flowers during a merciless winter storm.”

Aemon had the feeling that the Old Bear was also speaking about him, but he tried to conceal his displeasure. He wanted to prove himself, desperately so, but at the end of the day they were coddling him left and right.

He had seen that on the practice yard. They had sent him the greenest of recruits, not even worth the time of picking up his weapon, but his fingers had been frozen in the matter of a heartbeat.

_They think me nothing more than a spoiled child. That way I cannot win their friendship._

“Your boys are training hard,” Aemon assured the Lord Commander and watched as the raven seated on his shoulder hopped from one foot to the other. “And the new cloaks and armor should keep them warm through the coming winter.”

“And the corn should be enough to feed us for the next two years,” his Grand-Uncle Aemon added. Wrapped in his thick pelt, he looked like a swaddled babe, his unseeing eyes always staring into nothingness. He also reminded Aemon of his little sister Alysanne. “A generous gift, but not enough. What the Night’s Watch needs most of all are fresh and capable recruits.”

“My father knows that,” Aemon assured the elderly Maester. “But it is not easy to convince men to join this ancient institution. Have you heard of the tax my Lord Father tried to put into place?”

“We have heard of it,” the Old Bear replied. “But it failed miserably, didn’t it?”

“Aye,” Aemon confirmed and was sure that even his father would agree with him if he was here. “The law promised every lord a decrease in taxes if they convinced their knights to join the Night’s Watch. Well, these lords started forcing them to join the Night’s Watch and the knights brought their concerns before my father. It was a disaster for all concerns. My father had to repel the law and now we are back at the beginning.”

“It is a true pain,” the Old Bear agreed. “But the people will come to rue the day when winter comes for them.”

Aemon shuddered. The way the Old Bear had spoken, reminded him of his Lord Father and these grizzly tales about the Others.

_The Prince that was Promised_, Aemon thought and recalled the prophecy that had been given to King Jaehaerys and had compelled him to wed his grandmother to his mad grandfather.

His father and mother also avoided speaking of these matters to him and Aegon. There was something about this prophecy…

“My father would agree with you, Lord Commander,” Aemon said at last and shrugged his shoulders. “And I shall report your grievances to my Lord Father. Whether he will be able to help you is another matter.”

A ghost of a smile played on the Lord Commander’s lips.

“The Night’s Watch welcomes all help, no matter how small, your Grace.”

“He is a good man,” Aemon said to his Grand-Uncle after the Lord Commander had left them. “But the state of the Night’s Watch should not surprise anyone. The times have changed and your Lord Commander is clinging to these old values instead of trying to seize the future.”

“The young always want to change the world,” his Grand-Uncle said and squeezed his hand. “Would you tell me about your idea?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Aemon asked his Grand-Uncle and rubbed his frozen fingers together. “Change the laws of the Night’s Watch. Only criminals should have to serve until their life runs out. No man wants to serve his entire life at this frozen place. And more importantly, abolish this ridiculous rule that a man isn’t allowed to have women or father children. The men of the Night’s Watch should be warriors, not chaste men. A man who has a woman and a child fights more fiercely than a man that stands alone.”

His Uncle had listened in silence, but Aemon could read disapproval on his face.

“You want to change the very foundations of the Night’s Watch, my boy. Most of us men think it an honorable thing to keep to these old traditions.”

“Honor,” Aemon said. “But it won’t bring you the recruits you need. I may be young, but I am not stupid.”

His Grand-Uncle smiled at that. “And I have learned that young men often overestimate their abilities.”

“Perhaps,” Aemon agreed. “But it matters not. I have no say in the matters of the Night’s Watch. I can do only little to help.”

“You are doing more than others,” his Grand-Uncle said. “But I doubt that is the _only_ reason you came here?”

“No,” Aemon replied. “My mother was the true reason and this man…Ser Gerold Dayne another. It is the man who tried to murder my brother. I want to speak to him.”

“I see,” his Grand-Uncle said skeptically. “But you should be careful, my boy. A man who has taken the black is freed from all his previous crimes.”

“I have no intention to harm him,” Aemon promised, though he felt the urge to harm this man. “I know the rules, Grand-Uncle.”

“From one Aemon to the other,” his Grand-Uncle replied and smiled. “I trust your word.”

Aemon felt touched by the old man’s words.

“I thank you, Grand-Uncle,” Aemon said, another idea blooming in his mind. “But I must ask another favor from you.”

“A favor?” his Grand-Uncle asked. “Name it and I shall try my best, my boy.”

Aemon leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“I want to accompany the rangers on their daily patrol,” Aemon replied. “Ser Oswell Whent will of course accompany me.”

“Your father wouldn’t approve,” his Grand-Uncle countered. “He would want you to be safe.”

“I am ten and five,” Aemon insisted. “And I am a knight. One day I will command men on my brother’s behalf. How could I claim such a position in the future, if I cannot even partake in a simple patrol beyond the Wall?”

His Grand-Uncle said nothing to that, his face unreadable.

“Grand-Uncle,” Aemon began, but the squeeze on his hand assured him.

“I shall speak with the Lord Commander.”

Night had fallen, when Aemon stepped out unto the courtyard and made his way back to the King’s Tower.

He was no King, but he supposed he was the closest thing to a King the Night’s Watch had seen for a long time.

He found Richard seated by the hearth, gobbling down a bowl of broth and bread.

“Stay seated and eat,” Aemon assured him. “I am in no hurry.”

“As you wish,” Richard replied obediently and returned to his food. “When I am done eating, I will take care of the horses.”

“No need,” Aemon assured him. “I and Ser Oswell had a look at the horses earlier. I want you to stay here and cure your cold. I must speak to an old friend of mine.”

Richard nodded his head in understanding.

“I hope he chokes on his broth.”

Aemon said nothing to that and put his furred head covering where it belonged. His shawl and gloves followed and soon after he was entering the sleeping barracks where noticed a familiar face.

It was Waymar Royce, one of the few noble recruits at the Wall. He was strongly-build like his father, his grey eyes alight with displeasure.

He wanted Aemon gone, but that was no surprise.

His Uncle Viserys hadn’t won himself many friends in the Vale when he had ran off with Lord Royce’s only daughter.

“What are you doing here, your Grace?” the young man asked.

“I want to speak to Ser Gerold Dayne,” he replied without hesitation. He wasn’t afraid of the boy, especially not with Ser Oswell Whent looming over him like a giant. “Would you be so kind to summon him for me?”

The young man frowned when he realized that Aemon wasn’t intimidated by his presence.

“I shall do so.”

Ser Gerold Dayne appeared not long after, his gaze as icy as the wind howling over the Wall.

He was a handsome man, despite the cut off ear hidden beneath his silver hair, but he looked rather unhealthy, his face gaunt and his nose running with a cold like Aemon’s squire Richard.

“What can I do for you, _you Grace_?” he asked, his voice dripping with derision.

“I have an offer for you,” Aemon said. “Will you listen?”

The man seemed distrustful, but didn’t refuse.

“Let us speak in private.”

Aemon agreed and they stepped outside. There were guardsmen and recruits training with bow and arrow, but they were too occupied with their practice to notice them.

“What offer do you have for me, _your Grace_?”

“Tell me who sent you to murder my brother and in exchange I will make sure that you can live the rest of your life in Essos, a place more pleasant than this frozen hell. What do you say?”

Aemon believed that the man was tempted by the way he was flexing his hand, but there was something holding him back.

“I already told the King’s men that I am serving Dorne,” Ser Gerold replied, his gaze flickering from Aemon to Ser Oswell Whent. He had his arms crossed, glowering at the man in front of him. “But I cannot give names. I want to live.”

Aemon was not surprised by his refusal. His father had Ser Gerold tortured and he had not betrayed his puppet master. Why would he do so for Aemon’s childish offer? He was a fool to think it would be so easy.

“I need proof,” Aemon said and made another attempt of convincing the man in front of her. “And I will make sure that this person won’t be able to harm you.”

Ser Gerold chuckled. “You are just a boy…,” he began, but Aemon grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

“I am a Prince of the Realm,” he insisted. ”And I hate you for what you did to my brother, but I am not completely blind to the truth. You were trying to better your position and now I am offering you the same bargain. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life on the Wall?”

Aemon could see that he had won a small victory when Ser Gerold’s lips twisted upwards.

“You already know who sent me,” Ser Gerold replied. “As I said before: I am serving Dorne.”

Aemon clenched his teeth. “My brother Aegon is convinced his kin had nothing to do with all this. The same goes for my father the King.”

“Your brother is blind to his kin’s treacherous ways,” Ser Gerold replied. “But I know what I am speaking of. I am also a victim of Prince Doran’s plotting. He exiled me and once I was desperate enough I agreed to his vicious plan. Yet, I failed and ended up here. I regret my actions, but I am just a humble servant.”

“Humble servant,” Ser Oswell grumbled and spat on the ground. “Stop giving us your fairy tales, Dayne. You are hiding something and your word is worth nothing without proof.”

“Exactly,” Aemon agreed, though there was doubt in his heart. “Tell me the details and I shall keep my promise to you. There must be witnesses…something you can share with us to prove your tale.”

Ser Gerold said nothing for a long time before he dipped his head in reverence.

“I fear I cannot tell you more.”

…


	50. Cersei

**Cersei**

Cersei stretched her limbs and rolled to her side to rise out of her featherbed.

She was completely and went to pick up her silken robe from the nearby table. It had been six long moons that she had last enjoyed Jaime’s pretty cock inside her and now she had taken her fill of him.

Three times they had done it. The first time, she had pushed him unto the bed to ride him hard. The second time, she had allowed him to take her from behind and the third time she had sucked his cock until he had spilled on her thighs.

She felt deliciously raw, but the sight of Jaime’s naked backside was even more welcome to her.

It was a beautiful sight to behold, but now he had to leave. Cersei had business to attend to and said business concerned the Queen Mother.

“Get up you lazy man,” Cersei prodded and touched Jaime’s back with her toes. “I have to dress and you can’t be here when I call upon my ladies.”

Jaime pulled himself up and brushed his hand through his ruffled hair.

“This is the first time in six moons and you are already sending me on my way?”

“I have to attend to the Queen,” Cersei insisted, though she couldn’t care less about that old woman. She was only here for Rhaegar and her precious Myrcella. “Do you have no _duties_ to attend to, silly brother?”

“Not until midday,” Jaime told her and pulled his tunic back over his head. His pair of breeches and boots followed quickly. “And the Queen has a horde of women attending to her. You don’t have to see to her all the time.”

Cersei clucked her tongue and pointed at the door. “And here I though you liked the old woman.”

“I do like her,” Jaime said and moved closer to place a kiss on her lips, but she brushed him aside. “But I have _missed_ you more.”

“And I have my _duties_ to attend to,” Cersei insisted.

Jaime chuckled lightly. “Your _duties_? I think I know the kind of _duties_ you are speaking of, sweet sister. I am not like father or Tyrion, but I am no fool. Ser Jon Darry told me that you are fluttering around the King like a butterfly.

Cersei felt hot anger stirring inside her chest.

“That is only your jealousy speaking,” Cersei replied and brushed her hand against Jaime’s chest. “And you better get going to put on your pretty armor or the King will ask why a member of his Kingsguard is running about like a common courtier.”

Jaime grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer, his green eyes burning into hers.

“And you should not expect that the King will fuck you. He already has a Queen.”

“He sent the Stark Bitch back to the North,” Cersei reminded him. “Why should I fear her? What use has the King for her now that she lost her babe? The rumors also say she is barren.”

“Rumors,” Jaime chided her and let go of her hand. “Only rumors. Good look with your hunt, sweet sister.”

Then, he was gone, leaving Cersei in a sour mood.

She still called for her ladies to help her dress in a crimson gown with long sleeves and a hairnet of rubies and golden threads. Her hair she wore open, allowing it to spill freely down her shoulders in waves of gold.

Jaime could say whatever he wanted. She was still as beautiful as in her golden youth.

The King would soon forget his Stark Bitch.

With her heart filled with new confidence, she went to attend to the Queen Mother.

As expected, she was seated with her ladies. Today, Lady Alerie Tyrell and her daughter were attending to the Queen Mother. Beside them were also Lady Ashara Dayne and Lady Lynesse Hightower, which meant the grim Lord of the Stormlands was in King’s Landing to attend a meeting of the Small Council.

Of all the women in the realm, besides Lady Lyanna Stark, Cersei hated Stannis’ wife the most. Her silver-golden hair, perfect teeth and the fact that her plain and feeble daughter was betrothed to the Crown Prince was beyond infuriating to Cersei.

“Lady Cersei,” the old Queen greeted her. She wore a violet dress and a shawl was wrapped around her pale shoulders. “You are rather late.”

Cersei dropped a curtsy and kissed the Queen Mother’s hand before she took her seat beside her. They were having tea and cake while the Queen was hearing the ladies’ latest concerns regarding certain lords or other problems that arose in their kingdoms. Usually, it concerned marriages or domestic matters, but exactly these kind of things were first brought before the Queen rather than the King.

“How is your babe, Lady Ashara?” the Queen Mother asked the Dornish Whore’s former attendant. “We had hoped you would bring her with you.”

“Dyanna is well, your Grace,” Lady Ashara replied proudly. “But she is rather small. The Maester said it is be better for her to remain at home. I miss her dearly.”

“That is no surprise,” the Queen Mother agreed and smiled sadly. “We all miss our children when they are not close by. I want you to bring her when she is a bit stronger, Lady Ashara.”

“I shall,” Lady Ashara promised.

“Dyanna,” Lady Lynesse cooed. She was always playing the innocent girl, but Cersei could see that it was only an act. “What a lovely name. Why did you choose it?”

“No particular reason,” Lady Ashara replied and shrugged her shoulders. “I simply liked the name.”

Cersei and all the other ladies knew it was a lie. Perhaps the foolish woman believed that by giving her babe the name of a Queen will flatter the King. It was beyond disgusting.

“Indeed,” Cersei agreed and nodded her head in agreement. “What a lovely name.”

Lady Ashara’s smile didn’t reach her face as she met Cersei’s gaze.

Even Cersei had to admit that the woman in front of her was very beautiful. It made her wonder why the King had never fucked her, but perhaps he didn’t want a tarnished cunt.

It were only rumors, but they said that Brandon Stark had fucked Lady Ashara Dayne during the Tourney of Harrenhall and had fathered a bastard on her. Some also said she had lost the child, but others believed it was her sister, Lady Allyria Dayne, who was now attending to Princess Daenerys Targaryen.

“I thank you for the compliment,” Lady Ashara replied and lowered her head.

Then, she shifted her attention back to her steaming cup of tea.

It was Lady Margaery who spoke next.

“Oh, I wish I could have gone to Storm’s End to attend Princess Arianne’s and Lord Renly’s wedding. I am sure it was a grand event.”

“I am sure of it, sweetling,” Lady Alerie told her daughter. “But your presence was needed here.”

It was a blatant lie. The simple truth was that the Tyrells didn’t want to be anywhere near a Martell.

They were like cats and dogs.

“Mayhaps another time,” Lady Lynesse added sweetly. “We had a wonderful minstrel and Princess Arianne was a lovely bride. Renly can count himself lucky.”

_Lucky indeed_, Cersei thought to herself and smiled. _The slut had half of Westeros in her bed._

“I am sure they will make a happy pair,” the Queen Mother agreed and shifted her attention back to Lady Ashara. “Speaking of matches. I have spoken to Lord Beric and he feels very honored by your offer. If you wish to conduct further negotiations regarding a betrothal between your sister Lady Allyria and him, you ought to invite him soon.”

Lady Ashara looked relieved. “I thank you, your Grace. We have been hoping for this for a long time. I am pleased.”

_Of course, you are pleased. A mere bastard like your sister can count herself lucky to wed a High Lord. _

That is if the rumors were true and the girl truly was Brandon Stark’s bastard.

Not that Cersei cared, but knowledge was power. She had learned that from an early age.

“And it pleases me to be of help to you, Lady Ashara,” the Queen Mother replied and smiled warmly. “I hope the match will be a happy one.”

“We are all hoping that our children will be pleased with their lot,” Lady Lynesse added and met Cersei’s gaze. Her eyes glinted brightly, challenging her across the table. “You must be very happy, Lady Cersei. Prince Gaemon seems to be very taken with Lady Myrcella and one day he will have the honor to _serve_ his brother Prince Aegon and my sweet Shireen. It is a true blessing, isn’t it?”

Cersei felt the urge to strangle the slut, but that would be unseemly.

She minded her manners.

“A true blessing,” Cersei replied through gritted teeth. “A true blessing.”

The rest of the evening was a true torture, but Cersei endured it, like she had endured all the other humiliations.

All for one goal, all for one important goal.

To wed her beloved King, but she had long realized that she couldn’t rely on her father in this important matter. He had his eye on the Stark’s runts bastard, but then he had always been a prideful fool.

Cersei only had to take a look in her looking glass to see that she was still beautiful and young enough to birth _more _heirs.

With these thoughts in mind, she went to seek out the small Sept that was not far from the King’s chamber. It was a lonely place, for most noble women preferred the Sept of Baelor, were a Septon was holding mass at least three times a day.

More importantly, that way she be able to get a glimpse at the King, for he was always passing by in the evening, albeit never alone.

There was always a member of the Kingsguard with him. Today, it was Darry, a sour-faced fool, she disliked with every fiber of her being.

Yet, it was easy for her to ignore his presence when her beloved King was so close.

As always, he was dressed in black-and-red finery, his crystal crown resting atop his head his dark eye filled with a deep sadness.

_I sadness I will make him forget about_, Cersei thought and dropped a deep curtsy, as she stepped out of the small Sept. _Soon, he will forget about the Stark Bitch._

She had also made sure to place herself in the middle of the corridor, so the King was not able to overlook her presence.

Her previous hesitation had cost too many chances.

“Lady Cersei,” the King said and dipped his head as he mustered her from head to toe. “Is something amiss?”

Cersei had expected a different kind of reaction, but her hear was racing so quickly, she could barely breathe.

“I am well, your Grace,” she said and stepped closer, which seemed to bother Darry. He was scowling at her in a very serious way. Cersei ignored him of course. Her attention was all on the King. “I was just praying in the small Sept. It is very peaceful here.”

Cersei expected him to praise her for her piety or at least smile at her, but none of that happened.

On the contrary, the King gave her an almost bewildered look, as he glanced at the almost concealed entrance to the Sept.

“I had almost forgotten that there is a Sept here. I should send a Septon here to attend to your spiritual needs, my Lady. Perhaps that will help you to heal your loss.”

Cersei was confused by the King’s and her heart was still beating so furiously, she only managed a stuttering answer.

“My _loss_, your Grace?”

“Your daughter told us that your late husband was a good man,” the King explained and stepped closer to take her hand. He gave her hand a sloppy kiss, but to Cersei it was everything. “You must miss him very much, my Lady.”

Cersei felt a sharp sting when the King dropped her hand and took his leave with a quick bow of his head.

Cersei found herself smiling like a fool.

It had to be a sign, a sign she had been waiting for her entire life.

Her time would come.

Soon.

…


	51. Aemon

**Aemon**

Aemon watched as the Wildling girl squirmed beneath the man’s grip. His name was Garth and he was a man of the Night’s Watch.

It showed in his body and bearing. His face was worn out from the icy wind and one ear he had lost to the frost and another to a Wildling or so he had bragged.

There was no hope for mercy in the way he held his blade to the girl’s neck.

She was barely older than Aemon, her hair red like burnished copper and her bright blue eyes filled with anger and fear.

His other companions just stood there and stared. There were Will and Waymar Royce, who had glowered at Aemon throughout the entire ride. There was also Ser Oswell Whent, who hated the cold even more than Aemon. He was constantly cursing to himself, his breath rising into the sky in plumes of white smoke.

“Where are the rest of your lot hiding?” Garth asked the girl, who was still looking at her dead fallen brothers and sisters.

Two men and two women they had fought and killed. At first, Aemon hadn’t even noticed that they were women. They had hard faces like men and their hair was long and coarse like the pelt of an unwashed dog.

Guilt washed over him, as he took in their unmoving bodies. Killing women was not something a true knight should do, but perhaps that was another lie, for he knew that there were plenty of knights willing to butcher children or women as long as it served their purpose.

“There is none of us left, crow!” the girl snarled. “You killed them all!”

“Did we?” Garth asked in amusement. “Well, I am not sure, lass. You are still moving.”

Smiling, he grabbed her hair and pressed her face into the snow.

“I won’t tell you a thing, stinking crow!” the girl spat in his face after he had pulled up her hair again. Her cheeks were bright red and there were frozen tears shining in her eyes.

And it were exactly these tears that compelled Aemon to speak up.

“Leave her be,” Aemon said and pulled on the man’s arm. “We have killed all the others…This girl is no danger to us.”

“We can’t let her go. The girl would sell our secrets to the enemy,” Garth countered.

“She is just a girl,” Aemon insisted stubbornly. “We should let her go.”

“Never show mercy to Wildling scum,” Will added. “They are all wild beasts and the only fitting place for them is hell.”

“And you are not any less of a beast if you butcher an unarmed girl,” Aemon threw back. “Tell me, are the brave men of the Nights Watch really that afraid of a little girl?”

“Very well, lads,” Garth scoffed and spat on the ground in front of Aemon’s feet. “We shall let the whore go, but only because we have a _special _guest with us.”

Will did as he was told and untied the girl before allowing her to go free.

The wildling girl eyed them suspiciously, but soon enough she was gone.

Aemon had watched her fading red hair while leaning against the bent ironwood tree that was covered with a dress of beautiful white snow.

_Mother would love it here_, he thought as he returned to the camp, the sound of hushed whispers, cracking snow and the flickering flames reaching in his ears.

The men sat huddled beneath a bent fir tree, the flames of the fire rising into the sky in black swathes.

The dead wildlings they had left behind, not even making any attempt to bury them.

Not that Aemon blamed them. The ground was hard as iron. There was no chance they could ever managed to dig a grave for them, but it still made him uncomfortable to think about it.

It had felt wrong to just leave them there, but it had also felt wrong to kill a women.

The men of the Night’s Watch didn’t seem to share his belief.

It wasn’t like he didn’t understand why these Wildlings were hated, but to think of them as mindless beasts was a far too easy way to look at it. It reminded him of the way people thought of bastards. Not all bastards were the same, just as all Wildlings couldn’t be just mindless beasts and rapists. At least, this girl hadn’t made such an impression on him.

“Next time you will take Ser Arthur with you, your Grace,” Ser Oswell snapped at Aemon across the fire. “I am getting too old to freeze off my balls.”

“We should be back on the morrow,” Aemon said and searched for Garth’s face. “That is what Garth said.”

“That means nothing,” Will added from his position atop the ironwood tree that was not far from them. “If the snowfall gets worse it might take us another day to get back.”

“Gods be good!” Oswell cursed. ”I am going to lose my balls!”

“That’s why men from the south should stay in the south,” Garth added and took a swag from his wineskin. “But what is done is done. Besides, it looks as if a clear and moonlit night lays ahead of us. There should be no fresh snowfall.”

Aemon believed him when he took a glimpse at the sky. The distant horizon was cast in a violet glow, but no cloud could be seen. Even so, it was bitterly cold and he was shaking from head to toe.

Aemon pulled off his gloves and rubbed his fingers over the flames, but it was no use. His skin burned, but he couldn’t say if it was from the cold or from the heat.

It got better, as he watched the sky change from violet to black. Only the flickering stars and the thin circlet of silver provided them with light, besides the fire.

“It is getting colder,” Will remarked from his position on the tree. “And my feet are getting numb.”

“Here, drink up and stop complaining!” Garth snapped and threw the wineskin at Will. “This should help to warm you up.”

Will said nothing and drank greedily while Waymar Royce was glowering at Aemon across the fire.

Soon enough, Aemon was getting annoyed by it and decided to get straight to the point.

“Is there something you want to say to me, Royce?” Aemon asked bluntly.

Royce’s grey-green eyes widened.

“Not to you,” the older scoffed and brushed his hand over the hilt of his sword. “But your Uncle.”

“Why?” Aemon asked politely. “Because my Uncle spared your sister an unhappy marriage to Harry?”

“Harry?” Royce asked. “Who are you speaking of?”

“Harrold Hardygn,” Aemon explained. “The man your father had intended for your sister.”

“He is Lord Arryn’s heir,” Royce returned, his teeth clattering. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if the King told Prince Viserys to seduce my sister on purpose.”

“And why would my father do something silly like that?”

“Because he is afraid of my father,” Royce explained. “The King wants the Vale to be weak.”

“Utter nonsense,” Aemon said and couldn’t help but to laugh. “My father approved of the match between Harry and Lady Ysilla. It was your sister, who chose my Uncle.”

“My sister would have never _dishonored_ us in such a manner,” Royce countered, his body shaking, but not from the cold. “Your Uncle must have seduced her, like your scoundrel of a father did with Lady Lyanna. All Targaryens are the same.”

“Are we really that bad?” Aemon asked, the words spilling from his lips, before he could think them through. All eyes were now fixed on them, but nobody tried to interrupt their conversation. “What were the Seven Kingdoms before Aegon the Conqueror? A shithole of warring kingdoms. I grant you, House Targaryen had its fair share of bad rulers, but I don’t see what makes us so much different from House Arryn or House Royce, besides the fact that my father is wearing the crown and not the pretender your father supported.”

“Your father stole Robert Baratheon’s bride and threw the realm in a war that killed my father’s kin. And now your Uncle seduced my sister. House Royce has enough reason to dislike House Targaryen.”

“Robert Baratheon didn’t deserve to die like he did nor to be threatened by my mad grandfather,” Aemon granted him again. “But my mother wasn’t _Lord Robert’s_ property and neither is _your_ sister. Besides, have you ever met Harry? Why are you so convinced that he would have been a good husband to your sister?”

“My father would not choose a bad husband for my sister,” Royce defended his father. “And what would you know about this matter anyway?”

“I have known Harry for a long time,” Aemon explained. “He is a cheerful fellow and easy to like, but when it comes to girls he cannot be considered the most responsible person. I have not counted the number of girls in his bed, but by now he must have fathered at least two bastards. I am not sure if that is the kind of man your father wants for your sister, but then Robert Baratheon wasn’t much different or at least that is what I heard. Tell me, the people of the Vale admire men who fuck every whore that comes their way?”

By now, Royce’s face had changed to a grimace of anger.

“You are lying,” Royce muttered to himself and rose to his feet. “You are lying.”

“And I think you two should stop fighting,” Ser Oswell Whent grumbled in disapproval. “I fear your tongues might freeze off.”

“Very well,” Royce said and rose to his feet, his black cloak swishing after him through the white snow. “I need to piss.”

“A good idea,” Garth said and made space for Royce. “But be quick about it or your piss will freeze.”

The words had barely left Garth’s mouth, when a flock of crows soared over them, their croaks echoing over their heads.

“Death! Death! Death!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Garth asked and looked around. “Did the Old Bear send his bothersome birds after us?”

The words had barely left his mouth, when a bloodcurdling sound filled the air. It sounded like an animal, but when the underwood across them started to rustle the truth was revealed.

The moonlit person had two legs and two arms. He or it was also standing upright.

At first, the strange man didn’t move at all, his blue eyes piercing into them from the distance.

“It must be Wildling scum,” Garth said behind him. “Why is he not moving?”

“Wait,” Aemon said and touched the pommel of his blade to reassure himself that it was still there. “Something is wrong.”

Aemon couldn’t say how it had happened, but the world was suddenly beginning to feel even colder. A sharp gust of cold wind washed over them, whirling up leaves and making the trees whisper.

More such creatures or men appeared, walking ever slowly through the snow and watching them from the distance.

“Who are you fuckers?” Garth shouted at them, but no answer came. Only a low rumbling sound that made Aemon’s blood freeze.

“Who cares who they are?” Ser Oswell grumbled beside Aemon, his sword in hand. “They mean trouble.”

Garth had no time to answer before one of them rushed towards them.

Oswell proved faster than everyone else and took off the creature’s head with one savage blow.

Aemon stumbled backwards when the creature’s body continued to move towards him, though its head was lying in the snow, its blue eyes fading away like the morning mist.

Aemon unsheathed his blade and buried it deep in the moving corpse, its sharp fingernails trying to reach for him.

Clenching his teeth, Aemon kicked the creature hard and swung his blade again, cutting deep in its shoulder.

This time, the creature finally collapsed to the ground and stopped moving, but that was only the beginning of their nightmare.

When Aemon lifted his head, he noticed that these creatures were surrounding them, their blue eyes shining like stars in the darkness.

And they were led by an otherworldly creature.

This creature was lithe and its body was covered in shining blue armor. In its hand it carried a pale sword, nearly as big as a man and its hair was white and long, nearly brushing the ground as it sat atop its mount. It was a spider, all white, but with eyes as bright as frost.

Then, the otherworldly creature lifted his blade, as if to give an order and its servants rushed towards them like mad dogs chasing after a bloodied animal.

Oswell cut down one of them before it could reach him and Aemon managed to cut down another one by burying his blade deep into the creature’s chest, though it took him another handful hacks before it was rendered useless.

Yet, it was only a short-lived victory. Within the matter of a heartbeat, another creature was upon him, its sharp fingernails brushing over his cheek and drawing blood.

Aemon brought up his knee and kicked hard, putting some distance between himself and the beast. Hot blood was spilling into his eyes , as he stepped backwards and put all his strength behind the next blow.

The creature’s head, a girl’s head, spun through the air and landed with a soft thud on the ground while the creature’s hands were still trying to reach for him.

Aemon managed to pull himself back to his feet and slashed his blade towards the creature’s feet, cutting through them like butter.

Yet, it was not enough. Two more creatures were soon upon him, one pulling on his cloak and the other one burying its teeth deep into his shoulder blade.

Clenching his teeth, Aemon pushed his elbow backwards and managed to push the creature away, but it was not enough.

It took a savage blow by Ser Oswell’s blade to get the second creature away from him.

Catching for air, Aemon sat up and turned around.

Oswell was bleeding from a bite on his neck, but still alive.

His other companions were not so fortunate. Old Garth was dead, drowning in a puddle of his own blood, as one of he creatures continued to feast upon his flesh.

Royce not far, kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, as one creature was burying its teeth in his shoulder and another one was pulling on his legs.

Aemon pulled himself to his feet and rushed towards Royce, his blade unusually slow.

With a quick slash, he hacked the man apart, but another savage blow was needed to render the beast useless.

Royce made use of the moment and grabbed the other creature from behind, pulling it off his shoulder.

The creature stumbled and Aemon buried his blade to the hilt, his ears burning at the rumbling sound that left its mouth.

“Say it is no longer moving…Say it is no longer moving,” Royce stuttered, his green-grey eyes wide in fear. He was bleeding heavily from the wound at his neck, making the snow beneath him steam.

It was a deadly wound, so much Aemon could tell.

Yet, he couldn’t linger, for Ser Oswell was still standing and cutting down these creatures left and right, almost as if he was possessed by a madman.

Aemon killed another one that was coming his way, his gaze darting to the leader of these creatures or at least that is what he believed him to be.

This leader had kept out of the fighting so far, but now he was moving its mount towards Ser Oswell.

Oswell showed now hesitation and swung its blade at the spider, cutting off one of its legs. At once, inky blood spilled onto the ground, making the blood steam.

But the spider continued to move and snapped its head forward, barely missing Oswell’s shoulder.

By then, the leader was holding his massive blade before him like a lance and was rushing towards Ser Oswell.

Aemon had bridged half the distance, when Oswell lifted his blade and parried the blow.

Aemon could only stare in horror as the blades met, bringing forth a bloodcurdling sound.

Within the blink of a moment, Ser Oswell’s blade had been shattered into a thousand pieces.

Ser Oswell stood frozen to the ground, the glittering blade of the enemy lodged deep in his shoulder. Fresh blood was gushing forward and tainting his white cloak crimson.

He made not a single sound, as the leader pulled his blade free and collapsed to the ground.

Aemon had been a handful of feet away, his breathing coming fast and his feet trembling.

The leader was now looking at him directly.

Aemon had never seen such eyes. They were beautiful and terrible at once, but it made him forget his fear and move forward.

Shaking, he lifted his blade and swung with all the strength he could muster.

It was a foolish errant, but if he had to go, he would go out fighting.

Yet, the leader was much faster, moving his mount backwards, Aemon’s blade barely reaching the spider’s leg.

Aemon realized quickly that the leader was attempting another charge when he straightened himself.

Barely a noise could be heard, as the spider rushed forward and Aemon was forced to jump aside, kissing he snow.

When he had managed to pull himself back to his feet, the spider was barely a handful of steps away.

Aemon grimaced in pain, as he rolled to his side and lifted his blade once more. He put all his remaining strength behind the blow and this time he didn’t miss.

Two legs he managed to cut off, inky blood sprinkling over Aemon’s right eye.

The pain was immediate, a bright scream tearing from his mouth, as he brushed his free hand over his right eye.

It felt as if someone had pushed a burning rod into his eye and was now twisting it left and right.

Driven by pure agony, he pressed his head back into the cold snow.

The burning pain lessened at once, but he could no longer see on this side and had to rely on his other eye.

Holding his face with one hand and holding unto his sword with the other, he pulled himself up to face his enemy.

Yet, the leader made no attempt to move.

It simply stood there, the sound of the creature’s voice reminiscent of cracking snow.

It sounded like laughter or perhaps that was only his imagination.

Aemon clenched his teeth, the pain in his right eye growing numb when the icy wind touched it.

Brushing aside his fear, he moved forward and swung his blade at his enemy, who stepped aside easily.

This repeated itself several times, but every time the leader proved faster than before.

He was as quick as a squirrel, always moving and always evading his blows.

He was laughing to, always laughing, as if Aemon was nothing but a toy for him.

At last, the blades met, the high sound of it making his ears burn.

Aemon’s blade fell apart, as if it was made of glass, the small shards lodging themselves deep into his skin.

Aemon screamed and stumbled backwards, the pommel of his sword falling out of his hand and landing in the snow.

The pain was numb and distant.

The leader was now looming above him, but he was still breathing, still alive.

There was still a chance.

With his free hand, Aemon slipped the dagger free and threw himself at his enemy.

Yet, the dagger broke apart when it touched the leader’s armor.

It felt like touching a hot brazier.

He screamed and stumbled backwards, trying to move, like the spider, but it was no use.

There was something sinister in the enemy’s eyes, as he lifted its blade to give Aemon the death blow.

He was about to close is eyes, when a flock of black feathers blurred his view and washed over the enemy like a storm over a ship.

The birds snapped at the enemy mercilessly, as he swung his blade left and right.

The birds’ screamed, but it had saved Aemon’s life.

But only if he got away. Yet, his body felt dead and frozen.

He tried to sit, but he kissed the snow once more.

This kiss of snow felt cold and deadly.

He tried to move once more, but then everything went black.

…


	52. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys knew it would be a bad day when she found her nightgown tarnished by her moonblood. She should have known by the constant feeling of agitation in the previous days that her moonblood was close, but she had been so convinced that she had conceived this time around.

It had been just another delusion, but that wasn’t the worst of it. She had just asked her handmaids to draw a bath for her when an unpleasant guest entered her chamber.

It was Yorik, the short and stuttering Maester of House Tyrell. All he needed to do was to open his mouth or narrow his small weasel-like eyes for her to feel discomfort.

“I hope I am not interrupting, my Lord,” the Maester announced and cleared his throat, but made no attempt to lower his gaze.

Rhaenys was seated in the hot water, but her upper half was visible. She had to dip lower so the lusty old man wouldn’t be able to appraise her breasts. Even this acolyte, a tongue-tied boy named Will, had enough shame to cast his sky to the ground.

“You could have knocked,” Willas said from his place near his work desk, his voice laced with displeasure. He was already dressed in golden-and-green finery, his golden hair slightly disheveled form his constant habit of brushing his hand through his hair, as he had been working through the accounts. “My wife his half-naked and doesn’t appreciate being looked upon.”

If the weasel-faced Maester was ashamed of his misconduct, it didn’t how on his face.

“I apologize again,” the Maester said and averted his gaze. “But the Princess has nothing to fear. I need my Myrish glass to see at such a distance. Without it I am seeing nothing but blurred shapes.”

_Liar_, Rhaenys knew and made use of the moment to climb out of the water. Her handmaid Ellena was quick and handed her a robe to cover her nakedness. _I saw you reading without your Myrish glass. You are just a lusty old man and If I was the Lady of the Reach I would have long sent you back to the Citadel._

“There is no need for your tea nor for an examination, good Maester,” Rhaenys explained, as she walked towards her other handmaid Illia, who was holding her fresh dress. “I had my moonblood.”

The Maester’s eyes remained unreadable, as he came drew closer. Like all men of his station he was wearing a grey robe, but made of a fine silken cloth.

“It saddens me to hear that,” the Maester replied. “Perhaps we should try another tea.”

It took all of Rhaenys’ strength to keep her composure. 

“I have been drinking three different teas over the last moons and nothing has changed. I see no point in drinking this disgusting brew.”

The Maester didn’t seem impressed by her answer. “There are a good dozen of different teas we have yet to try, Princess. The worst we could do is give up.”

“But not until my moonblood has passed,” Rhaenys replied and tried to keep still while one of her handmaids was fastening the bindings of her dress and the other one was braiding her wet hair. “The cramps are bad enough, but I do not care for a sour stomach.”

“Understandable,” the Maester agreed and pulled something out of the pocket of his robes. It was a parchment, so much she could tell from afar, but only when the man drew closer was she able to recognize the crest of the three-headed dragon. “A rider came this morning…from King’s Landing. I didn’t dare to open it without your permission, Princess.”

“Then, let me see,” Rhaenys said and waved her hand at her handmaids, indicating for them to cease their work. “Did the rider tell you what the letter is about, good Maester?”

“He refused to speak to me,” the Maester told Rhaenys. “I assume the content of this letter is only meant for your ears.”

Rhaenys was pleased to hear this. She didn’t trust this man in front of her.

“I shall read the letter when you have left in company of my handmaids, good Maester. Willas may hear it all, of course. We have no secrets from each other.”

“As you wish, Princess,” the Maester replied and lowered his head in reverence before leaving them in company of his acolyte and the two handmaids.

“Here,” Willas called out to her and caused her to turn around. He was still seated and offered her the small dagger he usually used to open his letters. “That should do.”

Rhaenys took the dagger with the ruby hilt and opened the letter. As she was unfolding the parchment, Willas was pulling himself to his feet.

Rhaenys read quickly, her mind barely able to grasp the meaning of the words when all these strong feelings where overwhelming her.

“What is it?” Willas asked after Rhaenys had read through the letter for the third time. He must have noticed her distress “Did you receive dark tidings?”

Rhaenys said nothing and simply folded the piece parchment before walking over to the strongbox.

She couldn’t speak nor think. She needed to occupy with something. Aye, that was the best way to keep herself going.

Thus, she occupied herself with the search for an appropriate dress.

“Rhaenys,” Willias’ voice rang in her ears once more. “What in the seven hells happened?”

Rhaenys said nothing and chose three dresses before placing them on the tousled bedding.

“Rhaenys,” Willias said once more, his voice soft and distant to her ears. “What is going on?”

Rhaenys said nothing, as she turned around and bit her lips. Then, she exhaled deeply and answered.

“My brother has gone missing beyond the Wall. I must travel to King’s Landing at once.”

Willias’s golden eyes widened and Rhaenys resumed her work, searching for her riding boots and a lighter dress.

“Wait for a moment,” Willas said and placed himself in front of her. “You are trembling and for you to travel to King’s Landing in such a hurry…You don’t even know what is going on. Perhaps the matter will resolve itself in the matter of a week.”

Rhaenys didn’t have the time nor the will to discuss this matter with him.

“I am going today,” Rhaenys informed him. “And you are welcome to join me.”

“My father trusts me to rule in his stead while he is in Hornhill,” Willias told her matter-of-factly. “I can’t just leave.”

“You can,” Rhaenys she countered. His father had nothing to do with this. He was just trying to hide away because of his leg. “And your brother Garlan can rule while we are gone. He is capable enough.”

Rhaenys knew she had won when Willas dropped his head in acceptance.

“Very well, we shall go, but on the morrow. You should take some time to calm yourself.”

“I am calm,” Rhaenys threw back, her voice strained and distant to her ears. In truth, her heart was beating furiously and her mind a storm of confusion. She hated feeling helpless like this. It made it hard for her to function properly. “And I shall head your advice and rest later.”

“Are you sure?” Willias inquired once more and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Rhaenys felt the need to cry, but she couldn’t show weakness.

It wouldn’t be proper. She was the oldest and someone needed to be strong.

“I am sure,” she replied and pulled her hand free. “And now I must prepare for our travel.”

“As you wish,” Willias soft voice rang in her ears. “I shall speak to Garlan.”

As promised, they set out on the morrow at the first signs of daylight. Garlan promised to do as his brother had instructed him and the Queen of Thorns bid them farewell with a salty remark on her lips.

It is good that Willias goes with you, child. That means you can continue attending to your _most_ important duty.

Days of sunshine accompanied them as they travelled up the _Roseroad_, but it took them longer than expected. Due to Willias’ aching leg, they could only ride at a slow pace.

Under different circumstances, Rhaenys wouldn’t have cared about that, but with every passing day she was becoming more anxious.

When they finally reached King’s Landing, this constant feeling of anxiety only worsened and she was barely able to eat anything that morning.

“Rhaenys, sweet child,” her grand-mother was the first to greet her. She wore a dark-blue dress, her hair arranged in a strict bun atop her head. She was smiling, but Rhaenys could feel the tension in her body as she embraced her. “It is good that you are here.”

“And you Lord Willas,” her grandmother thanked her husband with a nod of her head. “Though I wish the occasion was a different one.”

“Where is father?” Rhaenys asked.

“Rhaegar went to Dragonstone,” her grandmother informed her and waved her hand at the ladies behind her. There was Cersei Lannister and Lady Margaery Tyrell and another, much younger girl, she didn’t know. “But I am sure he will return soon. I think you recall, Lady Cersei and your own good-sister. And the young Lady over there is Lady Jeyne Westerling.”

Rhaenys dropped a quick curtsy and went straight to the point.

“I presume father went to fetch Alysanne?” Rhaenys asked, but didn’t receive an answer until they had reached her grandmother’s private chamber.

“Not only that,” her grandmother replied and sat down in the heavy armchair. “Your father is planning to travel to the North.”

Rhaenys nodded her head in understanding, as she allowed herself to drop in the cushioned seat. The long ride had rubbed her buttocks raw and she was glad that Willas had gone to see their men settled. He would only distract her with his constant worry.

She loved him for that, but she was not made of glass.

“Father wrote that it is not yet clear what happened to Aemon,” Rhaenys said and exhaled deeply. Lady Cersei and Lady Westerling were lingering in the corner of the chamber and Margaery, who obviously didn’t want to be left out, had seated herself beside Rhaenys. “I assume father wants to investigate the matter himself?”

“That is so,” her grandmother confirmed. “Though I wish he would sent someone else. The North is a dangerous place.”

Rhaenys agreed with that, but her father was the King and Aemon was his son.

“I am sure father knows what he is doing,” she told her grandmother and noticed that Lady Cersei was watching Rhaenys. “He is after all married to a woman from the North. I only hope this turns out to be nothing but a terrible mistake.”

“Your words in gods ears, sweet child.”

“I am sure all will be well,” Lady Margaery added softly and touched Rhaenys’ hand. “Surely, Lord Stark wouldn’t allow anything to happen to his nephew?”

“I doubt it was Lord Stark’s idea to venture beyond the Wall,” her grandmother added in a mixture of sadness and frustration. “That must have been my grandson’s idea.”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenys agreed and noticed that Cersei Lannister was staring at her again. Yet, when Rhaenys turned her head, the golden-haired woman quickly averted her gaze. “But we won’t know more until father has investigated the matter thoroughly. Perhaps I should have waited. Willas chided me for travelling here in such a hurry.”

“Willas is very dutiful,” Lady Margaery said proudly. “But the Reach won’t fall apart without him. At least, not as long as my grandmother is still breathing.”

“Your brother Garlan is capable too,” Rhaenys told her good-sister and shifted her attention back to her grandmother. “He will manage and your father announced that he would return in a week or two.”

“That is good to hear,” her grandmother replied and folded her hands in her lap. “And I am glad that you are here. Daenerys is not well. She could need some company.”

Rhaenys was not surprised to hear that. “I shall see to her at once.”

…


	53. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany tried her best to ignore Rhaenys’ presence, but that was easier said than done when she was sitting right in front of her, a book spread over her lap.

She had arrived a handful of days ago and since then she hadn’t stopped pestering Dany when she wanted to do nothing more than to hide away beneath her bedding.

She had known for a while that she was with child, but she had tried to ignore the obvious signs. At first, she had thought it a mere sickness of the stomach, but such an illness would have abated by now.

Only when she had realized that she did no longer fit into her tight dresses, did she become aware of the truth. She was with child, with Aemon’s child, though she couldn’t quite comprehend how it had happened. The first dozen of times, she had drunk moon tea and later Aemon had always refrained from spilling inside her.

Truly, the gods must hate her. First, they took Aemon from her and now she might have to raise her child, a bastard, alone.

She was only ten and four and knew nothing of rearing children. Yet, most of all, she feared her mother’s reaction.

Would she hate her? No, she couldn’t imagine her mother hating her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be disappointed in her.

“Dany,” Rhaenys’ voice called her back to the present. “Are you listening?”

Dany turned around, her shawl slipping from her shoulder as she moved. She had been hiding her growing belly beneath wide summer dresses, but it wouldn’t take long before Rhaenys or her mother would notice the change. They might think her an innocent maid, but they weren’t stupid.

“I am listening,” Dany replied and noticed that Rhaenys had closed her book. “Are you done reading?”

“It is a boring book,” Rhaenys replied and smiled. “And I heard father is coming back on the morrow. Perhaps we should go and see grandmother. She must be done with her petitions by now.”

The old Dany would have gladly agreed to seek comfort in her mother’s presence, but all was different now.

She was about to be a mother, an unmarried mother.

It was this thought that filled her with an almost crippling fear and caused her to shake her head.

“I am not in the mood to go anywhere.”

This earned her a disapproving look.

“You haven’t left this room for days. You have need of fresh air and the presence of other people. It will be good for you.”

Dany nodded her head, but felt not longing to leave her bed.

“I am not feeling well.”

Rhaenys sighed deeply and rose to her feet. As she came to stand before the bed, she crossed her arms and looked at Dany like her mother when she was upset with her.

“That is just a justification,” Rhaenys said and pulled on her arm. “What do you want to do? Stay in your bed for the rest of your life?”

Rhaenys’ words roused her defiance.

“Why do you care?” Dany asked stubbornly. “It is none of your business and I have been feeling rather sickly. Lady Allyria can confirm it to you.”

“She told me,” Rhaenys confirmed and sat down beside Dany. “But I thought you were feeling better? How long has this sickness been ailing you?”

“Not that long,” Dany lied and averted her gaze. “I don’t know.”

“What now?” Rhaenys asked, her dark eyes filled with suspicion. “I think there is something you are not telling me.”

Dany didn’t want to answer and tried to change the topic. She quickly rose from the bed and graced Rhaenys with a feigned smile.

“I changed my mind,” Dany declared. “But I must change into a proper dress.”

“You are avoiding the topic,” Rhaenys replied, her dark eyes seizing up Dany from head to toe. “What is going on?”

Dany shook her head. The constant questioning was grating on her nerves. “Aemon is lost somewhere beyond the Wall. That is wrong with me.”

“We don’t know what happened to him,” Rhaenys replied and placed her hand on Dany’s shoulder. “I understand why you are upset, but I doubt my brother would want you to drive yourself mad with worry.”

Dany felt anger rising up inside her and brushed her niece’s hands away.

“How can you be so calm? He could be dead.”

“I am just trying to keep a calm head,” Rhaenys asked in surprise.

“And you are ordering me around,” Dany complained, a sudden feeling of sickness washing over her. Within the blink of a moment, she was sitting over the pot she always kept close to her bed and was vomiting out her fast.

“Here,” Rhaenys said after she had poured Dany a cup of water. “Have a cup. It should help to wash away the taste on your tongue.”

Dany drank deeply and when she was done she pulled herself back to sit on the bed.

Rhaenys picked the cup form her hands and placed it atop the nearby table.

Then, she returned to Dany’s side and touched her cheeks.

“Gods be good!” Dany heard her niece curse. “You are hot like a brazier.”

Dany quickly brushed her hands away and gave Rhaenys and assuring smile. “I am well. It is normal.”

“You are burning up,” Rhaenys countered and touched her cheeks once more. “You ought to see a Maester.”

“I don’t have need for a Maester,” Dany assured her. “I am well.”

“And I think you are hiding something from me,” Rhaenys said and covered Dany’s hands with her own. “You were never afraid of Maesters before...Why now?”

This time, Dany was at a loss of words. She didn’t know what to do. She felt torn between running away and telling Rhaenys the truth.

Dany sucked in a deep breath and gathered her courage. Then, she gave Rhaenys the answer she had been craving for.

“The truth is…the truth is…I am with child.”

Rhaenys said nothing for a long time, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound spilling from her lips.

Then, she rose to her feet and started to pace around the room. She was shaking her head back and forth, her dark eyes alive with emotions.

It only took so long before Dany spoke up.

“Rhaenys,” she said. “Are you well?”

Rhaenys stopped abruptly and turned back to Dany. Then, she bridged the distance and knelt down in front of Dany, her hands touching her cheeks.

“I thought you didn’t do anything.”

“Well, I have been drinking moon tea,” Dany defended herself in hopes of overcoming the shame she felt. “And Aemon…he never spilled inside me. You know how it goes.”

“How it goes?” Rhaenys asked and shook her head. “Has grandmother not raised you properly? What were you thinking?”

“That Aemon and I could be wed at any time,” Dany threw back and brushed her niece’s hand away. “I certainly didn’t think he would disappear.”

“You didn’t think! Exactly!” Rhaenys snapped and searched Dany’s face. “And you must tell grandmother and father about it.”

Dany shook her head and backed away.

“I can’t…mother would be angry.”

Rhaenys nodded her head in understanding. “Perhaps, but you cannot wait until this child drops out of your womb. You will have need of a Maester.”

Dany knew it was true, but fear was clutching her heart ever tightly.

“I know…I am just afraid.”

Rhaenys’ gaze softened and she leaned closer to kiss Dany’s cheek. “That is understandable, but grandmother will know what to do. She always knows what to do.”

…


	54. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

“I will take Alysanne with me to Winterfell,” Rhaegar told Rhaella, as he continued to pace up and down the chamber. “Lyanna will have need of her comfort.”

“What about Gaemon?” Rhaella asked. “He will be upset if you keep him in the dark in this matter. Aegon as well.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and allowed himself to fall back into the chair, his long silver hair spilling over his shoulders like a river of moonlight. It made his face appear even longer, his dark purple eyes glinting in the candlelight like two twin stars.

“I don’t want to frighten them until I know more,” Rhaegar explained his reasoning and leaned back in the chair. “I shall inform them of my findings when I return, which is why I must ask you to keep this a secret.”

“No word shall leave my mouth…” Rhaella began when a knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

Rhaegar opened the door, revealing Rhaenys’ and Daenerys’ presence.

When Rhaella noticed how tightly her daughter was clinging to Rhaenys’ hand, she felt a strange foreboding washing over her.

_Something happened_, she knew at once, but tried to hide her suspicions with a welcoming smile.

“What brings you here, girls?”

“An important matter,” Rhaenys declared and pulled on Daenerys’ arm, who had yet to speak a single word. “Dany has to tell you something important, grandmother.”

“Is that true?” Rhaella asked and searched Daenerys’ face. She was very pale, but that was understandable. She had been feeling sickly and Archmaester Marwyn had told her that it was most likely a result of the misfortune that had befallen them in the last moons “What could it be? Is it about Aemon?”

“It has to do with Aemon,” her daughter replied softly and finally lifted her gaze. “It is good and bad.”

“What could be good and bad at the same time?” Rhaegar asked and patted his sister’s shoulder, urging her to sit down in the chair he had occupied earlier. “Please sit down…you look rather pale, sweet sister.”

Her daughter gave a soft “thank you” in return and sat down in the armchair.

She looked suddenly much younger, as she sank deep into the cushion, her silver hair spilling all the way to her waist and her bright violet eyes glittering with tears.

Rhaella, who still didn’t know what to make of all this, spoke softly, intend not to frighten her daughter.

“Now…will you tell us what brings you here?”

Her fisted her skirt with both hands before she forced the words over her lips.

“The truth is...,” her daughter said. “I have been feeling sick…,” she trailed off.

Rhaegar seemed confused and searched first Rhaella’s and then Rhaenys gaze, but Rhaella immediately understood the implications.

She had carried seven children and had raised three of them.

Even so, her heartbeat sped up as she searched her daughter’s face across the room, who was eying her slippers or the rug on the floor.

“Daenerys,” Rhaella said and exhaled deeply. “Could it be that you are with child?”

Rhaegar sucked in a deep breath and Rhaenys stood incredibly still, balancing herself against Daenerys’ chair.

She knows of course, so much Rhaella could tell, which in turn confirmed Rhaella’s suspicions before Daenerys confirmed it herself.

“I am with child…with Aemon’s child.”

Rhaella knew this should be a relief to her, but it wasn’t. What she felt was uncertainty and slight disappointment. She had always tried her best to raise her three children properly, but it seemed all three of them had different ideas what was appropriate.

Yet, the fact that her grandson was missing, made it all the easier for her to brush aside her initial disappointment.

“How did this happen?” Rhaegar asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Rhaella couldn’t help but to chuckle. The way her oldest son and King had voiced this question had sounded almost surreal.

“Oh, I think you know how it happens, my son,” Rhaella chided him. “More important is _why_ it happened?”

Rhaegar was still mulling over her sharp remark when Rhaella shifted her attention back to Daenerys.

“Daenerys,” Rhaella said.” “_Why_ did it happen?”

“At first, I drank moon tea…,” her daughter stuttered. “And then…,” she trailed off, squirming under Rhaella’s gaze like a little girl that had been caught trying to steal cakes.

“I think you do not wish to hear the details,” Rhaegar began, but Rhaella silenced him with a shake of her head, forgetting that she was speaking to her King for this brief moment.

“I want to hear it.”

“Grandmother,” Rhaenys said came to Daenerys’ aid. “I think it was an accident.”

“I know so much,” Rhaella replied and looked back at Daenerys. “But how could you be so _stupid_? Have I not raised you better?”

“You have,” her daughter replied. “And I ignored it. I thought I knew better.”

Rhaella sighed deeply and nodded her head. “I chose my words wrongly. To blame this all on you is wrong. You and Aemon are both _stupid_ children.”

“I think my sister knows that,” Rhaegar said softly and patted Daenerys’ shoulder. “And there is not much use to complain over spilled milk. The child exists…we have to prepare for the _worst_ case.”

Her daughter shuddered, her violet eyes wet with tears as she looked up at Rhaegar.

“What do you mean?”

Rhaegar was quick to notice her distress and gave her an assuring smile. “You are smart to know what I mean. Just because I am preparing for something, doesn’t mean it will happen, sweet sister. First, I must go North and inquire what happened.”

“And what if the _worst_ happens?” Rhaella asked, wanting to know what Rhaegar was planning to do. “What will you do?”

“_Legitimize_ the child,” Rhaegar replied without hesitation.

Rhaella was not surprised, but it seemed her son was overlooking the problems of such an endeavor.

Alas, now was not the time to speak about this matter.

“Whatever we do,” Rhaella told her daughter and forced a smile over her lips. “First, you must see a Maester, daughter. Then you will go to Dragonstone…to keep this hidden until we know more.”

A ghost of a smile crossed over Daenerys’ lips.

“I shall do as you wish, mother.”

…


	55. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna watched from the battlements, as the riders poured through the gates in grey and black. She had been waiting every day for word from Castle Black after Benjen had announce he would search for her boy personally.

She had waited and waited, but after half a moon had passed, only Rhaegar and her precious Alysanne had made it back into her arms.

She had been both happy and sad to see them, for she blamed herself for what had happened.

_If I hadn’t come here none of this would have happened_, Lyanna thought, as she descended down the numerous stone steps to the courtyard, where Ned and Rhaegar and the rest of their family was already waiting.

The girls had not dared to speak to Lyanna since word had reached them of Aemon’s disappearance. Even Lady Stark had somewhat softened her attitude towards Lyanna, but kept her distance.

Only Robb spoke to her on occasion and had even declared that he would accompany his Uncle Benjen to the Wall, but had been rebuffed by Ned. Of the younger boys she saw even less. Sometimes, she saw Bran climbing on the walls and the youngest Rickon didn’t quite understand what was going on.

Lyanna was glad for it. She didn’t want to look into their eyes, least she might start crying like a little babe.

“There you are, love,” Rhaegar called out to her when he noticed her presence. He was constantly seeking her comfort and Lyanna desperately wanted to give in, but the guilt always holding her back, the guilt and the knowledge that all the misfortune that had befallen her children was due to her past actions. “Are you feeling cold, love?”

“I am from the North,” Lyanna said, shrugged him off and took in the men that had accompanied Benjen back to Winterfell.

There was an old man, whom Lyanna recognized as the Lord Commander and six more men, garbed in the black of the Night’s Watch. A third man, also dressed all in black, was bound to the horse of the Old Bear and stumbling behind him like a man to deep in his cups.

His face was weather-worn and his lips grey from the icy wind. His ragged clothing and his confused demeanor betrayed that he must have gone through a lot of suffering to come here.

“Benjen,” Ned greeted their brother and pulled him into a loose embrace. His wife Dacey, who was carrying their daughter Arra in her arms, followed suit to place a kiss on his cheek.

When the displays of affection were finished, Lyanna spoke.

“Who is this man?”

Benjen’s grey-blue eyes darted first to Ned and then to Lyanna and at last to Rhaegar, who had watched their exchange from the distance. His presence in Winterfell had only helped to increase tensions and Lyanna had the feeling that her brother wanted nothing more than to see her husband gone from Winterfell, but then he was also the King and even the Lord of Winterfell couldn’t afford insulting him without consequences.

“A deserter,” the Old Bear answered in a heavy voice. He was an elderly man with a bushy white beard and grey eyes. Lyanna remembered him well from his visits to Winterfell. “But also a witness to the misfortune that befell your son, your Grace.”

His answer felt like a stab into Lyanna’s heart, but she needed to hear this, for it would be her burden to bear if her boy had died. Just like Brandon’s and her father’s deaths were a burden she would have to carry till the end of her days.

_Do not weep_, she reminded herself and pulled up her thick woolen skirt. _You are no longer a little girl._

“I want to hear it all,” Lyanna said and walked past the men towards the deserter. He was grouching in the snow, his hands raw from the rope that was digging deep into his bound hands. “But first we must feed and dress him. What were you thinking by treating him as such? He might not have even made it back to Winterfell to tell the tale.”

No answer came, but Lyanna hadn’t expected one.

Like in trance, she pulled off her heavy fur cloak and dropped the garment on the man’s shoulders.

Something like recognition washed over the young man’s face and he finally spoke, his voice raw and weak.

“I thank you my lady,” the young stuttered and dipped his head. Then, he started to shake and wept frozen tears as he clutched Lyanna’s skirt. “I saw them…monsters…they killed them all…all of them dead. Please don’t make me go back into this frozen hell.”

“No one is going to do anything of the sort,” Lyanna promised and brushed her hand over his shoulders before she shifted her attention back to her brothers, Rhaegar and the Lord Commander.

“The man is a deserter,” the Lord Commander began. “The law…,” he began, but Lyanna couldn’t care less about the law.

“Fuck the law!” she snapped back and looked at Rhaegar. “We will hear him out and only then will we see whether the law is applicable or not, won’t we?”

Rhaegar nodded his head in affirmation. “First I want to hear what the man has to say.”

Thus, the man was ushered inside, fed and dressed and afforded a place beside the hearth. The Lord Commander’s men received the same treatment, though only the Lord Commander joined them later to hear the man’s tale.

“Tell us,” Lyanna prodded after she had taken her place beside Rhaegar. “What happened to you beyond the Wall? Did you know my son, Prince Aemon?”

The man nodded his head in understanding, his greasy hair sticking to his longish face.

“He rode with us, your Grace. With me, old Garth, Royce and the man of the Kingsguard…Ser Oswell. They are all dead…dead.”

Lyanna clenched her teeth, but she needed to hear it all, even it would take away the little hope she had left.

“Please tell us everything from the beginning,” Lyanna prodded and searched the young man’s muddy gaze. “I need to hear it all.”

“We rode out early in the morning…not all too far, but a storm delayed our return for another day and not long after we came about a band of Wildlings. We killed most of them, but one of them, a girl, survived. We set her free on your son’s prodding and made a camp not far from where we had found the Wildlings. Then, it happened…Old Garth thought it were Wildlings, but it was _something _else…_monsters_…,” he tried to continue, but his voice faltered.

“Monsters?” Ned asked. “What are you saying?”

“Snarks and grumpkins as most here would call them,” the Old Bear added solemnly. “Or as we call them…the Others.”

“The Others,” Benjen said and touched the young man’s shoulders. “Are tales for children.”

“Perhaps,” the Old Bear said and stroked his bushy beard. “But Will here is not the only one among my men who claimed to have seen _things_ beyond the Wall.”

“I want to hear what happened when these _Others_ appeared,” Rhaegar demanded to know. “What did they look like and how did they manage to kill my son and your companions?”

“There was only one _monster_….the others were deadman walking, its servants,” Will stuttered, shaking from head to toe. “I swear it is true. On my mother’s grave.”

“You shouldn’t make such oaths,” Ned chided the young man. “And how can we be sure that you are not just telling us this tale to escape your punishment?”

“Enough, Lord Stark.” Rhaegar said almost coldly. “First I want to hear the full tale and then we can decide on an appropriate punishment.”

“As you wish,” Ned replied coldly and fell silent, allowing the young man to continue with his tale.

“This monster, the leader, it looked like a human. Two legs and to arms and all, but its skin was pale and bluish, its hair white like a shroud and its eyes…its eyes were blue like frost. Its blade was even more terrifying to behold…it shattered Ser Oswell’s blade as if it was made of glass…and the…the Prince…his sword was also ruined as he tried to kill the monster’s mount. It was a spider…an ice spider.”

Lyanna had clutched Rhaegar’s arm while Rhaegar had remained very still throughout Will’s tale.

“You saw Ser Oswell die?” Rhaegar asked after a while. “What about my son and of the deadmen?”

“The Prince was wounded…he was lying in the snow…bleeding…I don’t know what happened to him afterwards,” Will added and dropped his gaze to the ground, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know I am a coward…but I didn’t want to die…you cannot know what it feels to be in _their_ presence. The air grows crispy cold…it feels as if death is touching you and trying to take you to the beyond. Please don’t make me go back…” he stuttered.

Lyanna felt both pity and anger for the young man in front of her. Pity for what had happened to him and anger because he had left her boy alone.

“You will have to go back,” Rhaegar told the young in a firm tone. “Or the Lords of the North will ask for your head. You gave a vow and you have a duty to your companions to avenge them. What do you say to my offer?”

The man stared at Rhaegar with disbelief while the Lord Commander looked as if he had been struck by thunder.

“You want me to take him back to the Wall, your Grace?”

“Think me mad if you will, Lord Commander,” Rhaegar replied, the iron tone in his voice betraying that he would not budge on this matter. “But I believe this man and I doubt any other men among your brave brothers would have reacted differently. That is why I ask of you: allow Will to return to the Wall and do his duty.”

“The rangers wouldn’t want him back amongst their midst, your Grace,” the Lord Commander explained. “Deserters are despised.”

“Then you must find him another post,” Rhaegar replied. “And tell your men that it was a mere misunderstanding and that Will never had any intention to desert. I know it is a lie, but Will must be kept alive. I might have need of him in the future.”

The Lord Commander didn’t look pleased, but he dipped his head and accepted his King’s command.

“I shall do as you ask, your Grace.”

“What do you make of this?” Lyanna asked Rhaegar after the Lord Commander, Benjen, Ned and Will had left them. “Do you really believe his tale or did you just say all that because you felt pity for him?”

“I believe him,” Rhaegar replied and touched her cheeks. “And he could be useful in the future…And our son. Mayhaps Aemon got away.”

“You heard the man,” Lyanna said and shook her head in disbelief. “These Others…they killed Oswell. How could Aemon hope to survive against such a creature?”

“He is the Prince,” Rhaegar said in that different kind of voice he always slipped into when he spoke of his _beloved_ prophecies. “He cannot be dead.”

It was the wrong moment to bring it up and made her blood boil.

“Oh, for fucks sakes, Rhaegar!” Lyanna snapped and freed herself from his grasp. “Hasn’t this prophecy nonsense brought us enough pain in the past?”

Rhaegar said nothing. He simply gave her this kind of melancholic look that told her he was upset with her.

“So, you are angry with me for trying to keep up hope?”

“No,” Lyanna said, her voice strained and distant. “I just…I don’t know.”

“Lyanna,” Rhaegar said and tried to reach for her, but Lyanna backed away. She couldn’t handle all of this at once and felt the sudden urge to flee.

“I need to go to the Godswood.”

She hadn’t even put on a proper cloak, as she had ventured out into the cold, the icy wind burning her skin as she stamped through the snow.

The heart tree looked like always. The sunlight falling upon the pale bark made the surface appear like polished marble and the red leaves reminded her of Rhaegar’s beautiful rubies.

She didn’t say anything, as she knelt down in the snow and touched the cool bark with her bare hands. The bark was cold and a spurt of fresh sap formed a puddle beneath the tree. It looked like blood and the ugly grimace carved in the tree looked as if it was sharing Lyanna’s pain.

There was no use in crying. She had learned that long time ago. Still, it felt good to have someone share her pain, even if it was just another delusion.

“Bring him back,” she asked the gods of her forefathers. “Please.”

The grimace remained unchanged, but a sudden gust of wind washed over her.

At first, Lyanna thought it was only the rustling of the wind, but it sounded suddenly like the whispering of a man…no, the voice of a boy.

“Mother,” the trees seemed to whisper. ”Mother.”

Lyanna’s heartbeat sped up and she pressed her ear against the tree, but no further whispering could be heard.

“Mother,” someone said again and when her head snapped around she realized that it had all been in her imagination. “Mother.”

It was not Aemon, but Alysanne, her cheeks flushed and her shoulders bare.

“Gods be good,” Lyanna muttered to herself and rubbed her little girl’s arms, as she pulled her into a tight embrace. “How did you find your way here and why did you not at least put on a cloak, Alys?”

“The crows showed me the way,” Alysanne replied calmly as ever and touched Lyanna’s thin cloak. “And I could say the same about you, mother? Your cloak is hardly fitting.”

Lyanna chuckled and noticed that her daughter was right. “I didn’t even notice.”

“You don’t have to be sad, mother,” Alysanne told her and graced her with one of her seldom smiles. “Aemon is going to come back, but it will take some time.”

Lyanna nodded her head in understanding and couldn’t bring herself to crush Alysanne’s heart with the bitter truth. “Who told you that, sweetling?”

Alysanne smiled again. “The crows told me.”

…


	56. Ned

**Ned**

Ned observed his sister with growing unease. Often enough she would spent hours with her girl before the heart tree and not even the King’s prodding could get here away from there.

His sister had even claimed to hear voices through the weirwoods and his little niece Alysanne didn’t help with her tales about speaking crows, promising that her brother would soon return to them.

_You must do something, Ned_, Cat had told him not long ago. _This strange little Princess is putting all kinds of strange ideas into our children’s head._

Ned had been asked by Ser Arthur to get his sister, but now that he found his sister and her little girl sitting beneath the heart tree he couldn’t help but to be reminded of his mother.

For Princess Alysanne had much of Lyanna, but even more of his mother. They had the same calm attitude that Ned had inherited from his mother.

“It is getting cold, sister,” Ned said after he had cleared his throat. “And the King wishes to speak with you.”

Lyanna, whose face was hidden beneath a thick fur cloak, lifted her head and leaned on Alysanne’s shoulder. The girl clutched her mother’s arm tightly, though he doubted it was out of need for comfort, but more because she had need of a leading hand to deliver her safely to Winterfell.

Even so, Ned often saw her walking along the corridors or out in the courtyard. Somehow she was able to find his way without Arya, Bran and Robb, who often offered to show her around. Only Sansa had yet to warm up to her, but not out of dislike for the girl.

_I fear to break her_, Sansa had told Ned when he had asked her why she was not trying to build a friendship with her niece. _I am afraid._

Ned had assured her that the Princess was not made of glass, but even so she was still keeping her distance.

The King’s presence didn’t make it any easier for Ned, who could barely speak with the man without feeling old resentment bubbling up inside him.

“I shall come,” Lyanna said, her voice swallowed by the wind before she followed Ned into the castle, where the King had taken his perpetual shelter in the library. Ned was glad for it, for the library was not a place he visited often. It made it easy to avoid his unwanted guest.

“Lyanna,” the King said, a smile crossing over his lips as he noticed his sister’s presence. “Alysanne. I think we must speak.”

“What about?” Lyanna asked and sat down in the chair across the King. Alysanne followed by holding unto her arm and stood beside her, not saying a word.

Ned, who was just about to leave, stopped when the King waved his hand at him.

“Lord Stark, I would prefer if you stayed here. I think this matter concerns us all…as a family. There is something I have neglected to tell you all.”

“What is it?” Lyanna asked fearfully and held tightly unto Alysanne’s shoulder. “Something bad?”

“Not necessarily,” the King said and exhaled deeply. “The truth I withheld is…it seems Daenerys is with child, Aemon’s child.”

“Oh,” Lyanna said in surprise. She looked distraught and happy at once. “Oh.”

Alysanne didn’t seem surprised nor did it affect her all too much.

She truly was a strange girl.

“I didn’t know,” Lyanna said after a while. “Will it be a problem for Daenerys? They were _not_ wed.”

“I shall legitimize the child,” the King said quickly. “But that is not the only reason I am telling you about it. I know you wanted to stay for a whole year, but I am sure Daenerys would be pleased by your presence.”

Lyanna paled and shook her head. “I cannot leave, Rhaegar. Alysanne said that Ameon will come back. Please, don’t ask this of me.”

The King looked very disappointed and Ned sensed that he had been trying to lure his sister south with the promise of a grandchild.

“Lyanna,” the King said and looked at his daughter, who was still holding unto her mother’s arm. “Perhaps you want to seek out your cousins, Alys? Arthur can show you the way.”

Ser Arthur, who had been keeping guard next to the door, rose to his feet and touched the girl’s shoulder. ”Come, Princess. I will show you the way.”

The girl nodded her head and took Ser Arthur’s arm, allowing the knight to lead her away.

Ned remained, though he felt great discomfort to intrude upon this conversation.

“Lyanna,” the King said again and knelt, his hands covering Lyanna’s. “I have told the Lord Commander to look out for our boy. Perhaps we will know more in a few moons, but for you to remain here and drive yourself mad with waiting will not do. You must come home…you have another son. Gaemon.”

Lyanna pulled her hands away and rose to her feet.

“I cannot go. Not until Aemon returns. This is my last word, Rhaegar,” she declared firmly before she left the room.

Ned couldn’t claim to know the King, but in that moment he looked like a lost child.

“Lord Stark,” the King said and exhaled deeply. “Could you perhaps speak…,” he began, but Ned cut him off before he could speak further.

He had waited fourteen years to have his sister back. He wouldn’t destroy their relationship by getting involved in his sister’s domestic matters.

He had learned his lesson.

“Lyanna is a stubborn woman, your Grace,” Ned replied. “And she is grieving. I think you should leave her be until she has regained her spirits and decides to join you in King’s Landing.”

The King nodded his head, his jaw tense like a bowstring. “I am aware of Lyanna’s stubborn mind, but it is not as easy as you think. She is my Queen and my mother is not willing to do her duties forever. She is getting old and longs for peace. Gaemon has also need of a mother.”

“I cannot help you in this matter, your Grace,” Ned said again and shrugged his shoulders in a helpless manner. “You should have known that my sister wouldn’t be like the other ladies.”

“I know your sister well, Lord Stark,” the King replied through gritted teeth. “Better than _you_ anyway, but this isn’t about Lyanna not being a lady. I never expected that of her, but she still has her duties to attend to. Like myself.”

Ned felt old resentment rising up inside him. He had a good idea what the King was really speaking of.

“I think I know more about duties than you, your Grace,” Ned replied politely, but not without of iciness. “Do not think that I don’t regret being blind to my sister’s dislike for the match with Robert Baratheon. Had I known I wouldn’t have encouraged Robert as much as I did.”

“I didn’t want _him_ to die,” the King said, his voice growing soft and brittle. “Nor did I want to see your father and brother butchered by my mad father. But you are wrong about one thing, my Lord. I always did my duty to my father and perhaps that was my greatest mistake.”

Ned had never considered how King Rhaegar might have felt about his father. Ned’s father had been a firm and good man, but not without failures.

“You killed him in the end,” Ned added softly. “You redeemed yourself somewhat by what you did.”

“I am a kingslayer,” the King said and chuckled bitterly. “I didn’t think someone like you would approve of such a dishonorable deed?”

“He murdered my father and brother,” Ned replied. “And I would have killed him myself if I had the chance to do so.”

“I did not enjoy killing him as much as I thought,” the King replied and averted his gaze briefly. “I have always preferred my harp over my sword. I would have been much happier to be a second son, I think.”

Then, he lifted his gaze again and looked at Ned with these sad eyes. It made him think of Lyanna’s boy.

_Mayhaps we should focus on the things we have in common rather than the things that sperate us._

Ned forced a smile over his lips.

“I think that is one thing we have in common, your Grace. I think I would have also preferred to remain a second son. Sadly, we do not always get what we want.”

…


	57. Viserys

**Viserys**

Viserys hadn’t expected to find Ser Richard Lonmouth appear in his new home after nearly a year of his absence from Westeros.

Ser Richard looked more relieved than angry to find him, but he noticed that there was some presence of sadness looming over him.

“You have made a fine home for yourself here, my Prince,” Ser Richard said as he took in his home, a pleasant home. “I understand why you like it here. Even some of the lowliest pillow girls we came about in the streets are even prettier than my wife.”

Viserys understood that he was trying to imply.

“I am a married man,” Viserys said and smiled when he noticed Ysilla’s presence, who carried a gurgling babe at her breast, their daughter Daenerys or ‘Naerys’ as Ysilla insisted on calling her. “I have no need for the company of pillow girls, no matter how lovely they are.”

Ser Richard smiled and waved his hand at Ysilla, who smiled brightly when she realized who he was.

She looked beautiful as ever, though the Lysean seemed to startle Ser Richard.

Not that Viserys blamed him. Ysilla wore a bright blue dress, reaching only to her ankles and leaving her shoulders bare. Wrapped around her shoulders she wore a glittering shawl decorated with small bells and pearls that tingled softly whenever she moved.

“Ser Richard,” she greeted and dropped a quick curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Did your King or my father send you?”

“The King,” Ser Richard replied and placed a quick kiss on her hand, his eyes flickering to the babe in his arms. Their little girl had inherited much of the blood of the dragon. Her hair was the softest of silver, but with a touch of gold and her eyes were a deep shade of purple. “The King bids you to return home, Prince Viserys. He has need of your presence and hopes your return might help to reconcile House Royce and House Taragryen.”

“My child will,” Ysilla insisted and clutched their babe to her chest. It made a giggling sound. “My father was surely upset, but Naerys will win him over, I am sure of it.”

“This I don’t know, my Lady,” Ser Richard replied. “But I have much to tell.”

“Of course,” Viserys replied. “You shall break your fast with us tonight. Your men are also invited.”

“My father must have been very angry,” Ysilla remarked as she brushed her hair. “Or Ser Richard would have come here in company of my brother. This is very bad, Viserys.”

When she was done, Ysilla picked up their babe and started feeding her.

Naerys drank greedily, but was much less of a troublemaker than Daenerys had been. She slept well and was usually quite serene. Only whenever she got hungry would she make her displeasure known.

“My brother will not harm us. And you know about the rumors…I think my brother has need of my comfort.”

“I hope so,” Ysilla replied and nodded her head. “I hope so.”

Later that night, they broke their fast on fresh bread, nuts and dates covered in honey. They were seated on the outer terrace, the moon smiling down at them and a sea of stars glittering on the distant horizon.

“Have you heard what transpired in your absence, Prince Viserys?” Ser Richard asked.

“I heard that Queen lost the child she was carrying,” Viserys replied sadly. “I wish I could have returned home, but Ysilla was heavy with child and I had to think of her comfort. I hope the King will be able to forgive me.”

“The King is in difficult situation,” Ser Richard explained and stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth. “After the loss of her child, Queen Lyanna fled North and shortly after Prince Aemon disappeared beyond the Wall.”

Viserys had nearly dropped his cup when he had heard this.

“And my sister?” Viserys asked. “How is she?”

“What a stupid question task, love.” Ysilla chided him. “She was betrothed to Prince Aemon.”

“The Princess is well considering her circumstances.”

“Her circumstances?” Viserys asked.

Ser Richard sucked in a deep breath. “The Princess Daenerys is with child.”

Viserys looked at Ysilla.

“I fear we must go home, love.”

Ysilla smiled softly.

“I understand.”

...


	58. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany felt as if she was being torn apart from the inside out. Her hand was holding tightly unto Rhaenys’ as Archmaester Marwyn continued to mutter all kinds of useless commands to her.

“You need to breathe deeply and push!” Marwyn instructed, as he knelt between her spread legs, a maid beside him and her Lady Mother and the other ladies seated around her. “First you must_ breathe_ and then _push_!”

Dany sucked in a deep breath and pushed as she had been instructed to do.

It was no use. It felt as if her child was stuck.

“Nothing is happening!” Dany shouted, through her tears. “Why is nothing happening?”

“These things take their good time,” Marwyn assured her in and distracted voice. “Now _breathe _and _push _again!”

Dany did what she was told, terrible curses spilling from her mouth, as she pushed even harder.

“Get out!” Dany shouted, clenching her teeth. “Get the fuck out!”

“Now!” Marwyn instructed again and pulled on her hips, a sharp pain rushing down her spine. “Just a _little_ further.”

“Fuck!” Dany cursed at the top of her lungs and closed her eyes, as she pushed again. “Fuck this!”

When she opened her eyes again, she felt the touch of a cool cloth atop her head. It was Rhaenys’, who was whispering to her, but Dany had only eyes for her mother. She was smiling and holding Lady Myrcella’s and Lady Shireen’s hands, who looked both mortified by what was transpiring in front of their eyes.

“Now!” Marwyn instructed gain. “I can see the head…just one more time. At my, command…One, two, three. _Now_!”

Dany felt it in that moment, a burning sensation deep inside her loins, as she pushed as hard as she could. Another pain, unlike anything she had ever experienced tore through her body and then she felt it suddenly…something squirmy slithered out of her body, the sheer relief of it all making her collapse back in her heap of pillows.

“Well, done,” she heard Marwyn whisper, but it was nothing more than a distant echo to her buzzing ears.

Within the link of a moment, the world around her was black and sharp spurt of dizziness forced her to close her eyes.

For some time, she didn’t know whether she was dreaming or awake, light and darkness, day and night, ever changing like the seasons.

Her dreams were like shadows chasing after the sun, always lingering at the edge of her consciousness, but never quite reaching it.

She stretched out her hand towards the light, her only hope to escape the darkness threatening to swallow her whole.

_Don’t look back_, a distant, whispery voice reached her ears. _Behind you will only find death and ruin._

_Open your eyes._

_Open your eyes for the future._

As if a curse had been lifted, the darkness was suddenly chased away, by a red single eye, gleaming bright like the moon on the starry night sky.

At first, Dany thought it was a human eye, but then she saw that it belonged to monstrous creature. Its body was black like obsidian and covered with veins of crimson and gold around its jaw and all the way down to its spiky tail and wings.

It looked like a dragon, its jaw wide open as it stared back at her with one whole eye, red like the rubies in Rhaegar’s armour.

_Wake me_, the creature whispered. _Wake me._

Dany just stood there, as the creature uncoiled its long spiky tale and opened its mouth wider.

Sharp teeth she saw, like the tips of a row of spears.

And then she felt it. A hot flame washing over her like a wave over a sinking ship.

The flames whirled around her, feasting upon her limbs and hair, skin and body.

She felt cold and warm, dizzy and clear at once.

_Wake me_, the voice whispered again. _Wake me._

With these last words, her vision burst into bright green light, brighter than any star or even the sun, only to return her to bottomless darkness.

When she opened her eyes again, her head felt hot and wet, slickened by sweat.

“Daenerys,” Rhaenys’ voice reached her ears, distant and soft. “Daenerys!”

Daenerys turned her head and exhaled deeply as she lucked up at her niece.

She looked no longer dressed for the birthing chamber. She had exchanged her blue dress for a green one and her dark hair was tightly braided and held in place by a gilded hairnet.

“Where is my child?” Daenerys asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Well,” Rhaenys assured her quickly and touched her shoulders to press her back down into the pillows. “But you must rest. You bled and you had a bad fever.”

“Here,” she heard Marwyn whisper in the distant. “The tea. She must drink it all.”

“Of course,” Rhaenys said and put the cup to Dany’s lips. The liquid was sweet and milky. It made her feel drowsy. “You heard the Archmaester, you must drink all of it. All of it.”

The words had barely left Rhaenys’ lips when Dany slipped back into darkness.

When she woke again, she felt much lighter, but her head was throbbing painfully.

It was the soft voice of her mother that greeted her this time.

“You are back,” her mother said and touched her brow. Rhaenys was beside her, her black hair open and in sharp contrast with her pale dress. “We thought you would sleep for another week.”

Panic washed over her and she tried to sit up, but only managed to do so with Rhaenys’ help.

“Where is my child?” she asked again, but this time she received a proper answer, the mewling sound of a babe.

Rhaenys brought her squirming bundle and laid it into her arms.

“He has a nursemaid,” her mother told her and sat down beside her, her hand brushing up Dany’s arm. “It was unavoidable. You had a bad fever.”

“Was it childbed fever?” Dany asked, as she took in the babe in her arms. It had a fat red head with a tuft of silver hair, fat cheeks and a small nose. The eyes were just as small and strange to behold. One eye was nearly black and the other a deep shade of violet. “I can scarcely remember what happened.”

“Perhaps,” her mother said. “Marwyn wasn’t quite sure, but he believes it happened because your hips were to small. Something tore while you were birthing him.”

Her boy gave a mewling sound, his fisted fingers brushing over her lips, as if he was searching for something latch unto.

Dany ignored everything her mother had told her and pulled down her night gown to bare hear breast.

“Daenerys…,” her mother chided her, but her boy latched unto her breast without hesitation. It hurt a little, but it pleased her and drove away the chill she had felt upon her waking.

“He is very pretty,” Rhaenys remarked and touched the babe’s head. “And greedy. The poor nursemaid complained about him more than once.”

“It is a good sign,” her mother added quietly. “Marwyn said he was a bit too small, but that is no surprise. He came nearly a moon too early.”

Dany nodded her head in acknowledgement of her mother’s words, but her gaze remained fixed on the suckling babe.

“What do you want to call him, sweetling?” her mother asked after a while. “Have you thought about it?”

“Aemon would be fitting, I suppose,” Rhaenys suggested and folded her hands in her lap.

Dany had thought of that, but she had the feeling that Aemon wouldn’t have wanted to name his child after himself.

“Or Jaehaerys,” her mother suggested wistfully. “I named one of your dead brothers after my father. It is your decision…,” he mother trailed off, her voice laced with sadness.

Dany knew why. Her mother must have realized that Aemon would never come back to name their child.

The thought was overwhelmingly sad, but now was a happy moment.

“I have a name in mind that is _similar_,” Dany said at last. “Jacaerys…I always liked that name.”

Rhaenys and her Lady mother exchanged a strange look.

“A good name,” her mother complimented her. “But people will talk.”

“Let them, I say,” Rhaenys agreed, but smiled as she leaned closer. “And I am sure Aemon would be pleased with the name. Jacaerys was the name of a dragonrider.”

Dany was pleased with that idea, but her mother remained silent as a grave.

…


	59. Aemon

**Aemon**

He felt as if he had been sleeping for a hundred years, his heart frozen in ice, like the creatures that had killed Old Garth, Will and Waymar Royce.

These terribly beautiful creature that had shattered his blade, as if it had been nothing but a toy. Even now, he could hear the high-pitched, ear bleeding sound that had met his ears when their blades had met in mid-air before shattering into a thousand small pieces.

He could still see the burning blue eyes, two twin stars meeting his through the ever-shifting shadows.

There were other shadows too, familiar and unfamiliar faces staring back at him.

He had forgotten them all, his old life growing hazy and distant.

There was sadness as well, but he couldn’t place why this particular feeling was there.

Then, he recalled only darkness.

Suffocating darkness.

At times, his darkness was chased away by light and warmth.

Then, he could make out these small people that touched him and forced a bitter pastry into his mouth in regular intervals.

It tasted of pines and snow, of blood and earth.

He drank greedily, his mouth dry and full of pain, as he tried to swallow. Sometimes, the small creatures helped him sit, their soft hands pulling on him.

There were also dreams, oh so strange dreams, of people and places he could no longer remember.

He dreamed of a girl with silver hair birthing a babe in a bed of blood. An old dragon sleeping on the Wall, two wolves crying salty tears in a grey castle, vipers spewing their poisons and a lion roaring at a dragon…

Many more such visions assaulted his mind constantly and at times he felt as if he was growing mad.

At other times, these visions were almost comforting, a change from the suffocating.

He dreamed of a man with silver-hair, burning a vicious King in a castle of black stone. He dreamed of a woman being devoured by a dragon, her high-pitched screams echoing in his ears. He dreamed of a knight and a beautiful lady with silver hair, kissing and shedding her Septa-like robes. He saw a King with wild silver hair and lilac eyes scream bright and loud, as his son buried his blade in his chest, leaving him impaled on the Iron Throne, crimson blood forming a puddle of blood beneath his feet.

This ones felt more like distant tales from the past.

He felt so cold, so very cold as he woke, lying on a hard ground, roots and stones digging into his back like daggers.

_I should be dead_, he gasped and tried to lift his hand, but was much too weak to move. _I should be dead._

Suddenly, a pair of golden eyes met his gaze through the darkness. They were filled with curiosity and something else, an expression he couldn’t quite describe.

Was it fear or curiosity? He couldn’t say.

“You are awake,” chirped the small creature . It sounded like the voice of a child. “The Three-Eyed-Crow will be pleased.”

Aemon wanted to speak, but the pain in his face made him gasp and caused him to roll from side to side, as if it would somehow ease the pain.

Eventually, he fell asleep again, the darkness embracing once more.

The next time, he found himself being moved and covered with thick furs, someone’s hands tracing his chest.

He forced his eyes open and turned his head. Again, he saw a pair of golden eyes, but the small creature said nothing to him, even after he had grabbed its hand.

Weak and useless, he was forced to swallow another brew that lulled him back to sleep.

This time, neither dreams nor memories plagued him.

He slept as if he was dead.

Yet, the peace didn’t last for long.

One day, he dreamed he was a crow, flying over wind-swept plains and feeling the touch of the icy wind on his skin.

It was a burning cold, almost as consuming as fire.

He flew over the Wall, soaring over a sea of Ironwood and further North, always North.

The bluesish hues of the mountains glowed in the distance and as he ventured further North, he reached a massive weirwood.

The tree was old and so very beautiful.

Its bark was pale like snow and a thousands of branches stretched towards the sky, embracing the distant sun.

There, the crow landed to join its brothers and he felt himself slipping back into his weak body.

As he woke again, the familiar pair of golden eyes greeted him through the darkness.

His surroundings were blurred, but he noticed that he was in some sort of cave, a small torch flickering carried by one of these small creatures that looked almost like children..

Crows where there as well, one of them landing beside him and watching him with its small black eyes.

“You are lucky!” the child chirped as it touched his arm ever gently. “Few meet the Others and survive. Yet, here you are. I took care of your wounds as the Three-Eyed-Crow bid me, but it will take time until you have regained your strength.”

“I want to…to sit!” Aemon gasped. Every fiber of his body ached as he tried to move. “Help me!”

The child nodded and helped him. “See…you are already regaining your strength.”

“Now you must eat,” another child added and offered him a bowl with pieces of fish and some strange green mush that smelled of pine trees. “Here.”

Aemon could barely hold the bowl of food between his trembling hands.

Another terrible realization hit him in that moment.

His vision had changed. He had only one seeing eye.

The realization caused him to drop the bowl, half of the food spilling over the ground.

“My eye is gone,” he whispered and shuddered. “It is gone.”

“You have another,” one of the children pointed out and picked up the bowl, as if nothing had happened. “And now you must eat.”

He was still shocked, but he hate all of it, his stomach yearning for food and substance.

He must have slept for a long time, for when he tried to stand his legs failed him and when he looked at his arms he saw how thin they had become.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked the child, as he made his first wavering steps. “A moon or two?”

“Nine moons,” the child told him. “Your wounds were difficult to treat. We had to put you to sleep to make you heal.”

He gasped at the realization, his memories painful and distant.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite grasp them.

He felt so weak, so very weak. After a handful of more steps he wanted to go back to sleep.

“Who are you and why did you save me? And more importantly….Who am I?”

“Your kind call us the Children of the Forest,” another child chirped and slipped beneath his arm to steady him. “And our protector, the Three-Eyed-Crow, saved you.”

“And who am I?”

“The Three-Eyed-Crow will tell you,” the child told him and led him slowly along a narrow tunnel. More than once, he stumbled and the rest of the way he only managed to put behind him due to his helpers, these strange children.

_The Children of the Forest_, he recalled, but when he finally laid eyes on them in brighter light, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

They were only barely human.

They had golden eyes, nut-brown skin, dappled like deerskin, along with large ears and small mouths.

As he was led further along, he could only stare in awe at the large weirwood that rested atop the large cavernous room filled with soft moonlight.

Admits a bed of roots, beneath the massive weirwood, sat a very old man.

His skin was papery thin, his hair long and white, reaching nearly to the ground. It looked almost like a shroud, but even uglier to behold was his scar, spreading over a good part of his face and his one piercing eye, red like a ruby.

“Welcome, Jon Snow,” the old man whispered. “Welcome.”

…


	60. Aegon

**Aegon**

Aegon knew it would be an uncomfortable meeting after Lord Tywin Lannister and Lord Mace Tyrell had asked for a personal audience with his father. These men wanted something and he had the feeling that he already knew what it was.

Not long ago, his father had made it known to his his council that he wished to legitimize his grandson as the legitimate son of his brother Aemon Targaryen and his Aunt Princess Daenerys Targaryen. As a consequence, this child would be Aegon’s heir, a fact that didn’t seem to bother anyone but these two men.

“Your Grace,” Lord Mace Tyrell said and lowered his head in greeting, coming to stand before the Iron Throne. “I thank you for receiving us at such a short notice.”

“I am also thankful, your Grace,” Lord Tywin added, but simply nodded his head. “I think you know why we are here. We wish to speak with you about the legitimization of Princess Daenerys’ child.”

_Of course, the proud lion wouldn’t bow to the dragon_, Aegon thought. His mother had never liked the man and he shared her ambivalent feelings towards the old lion.

“What about it, my Lord?” his father asked. “You said not a word when I presented my wishes to the Small Council.”

“We did not,” Lord Tywin confirmed calmly. “We thought it more appropriate to discuss this matter in _private_.”

“Very well,” his father said. “What is it you can only tell me in _private_?”

Lord Mace Tyrell cleared his throat and explained.

“We think this legitimization could give a wrong impression to the ladies of the realm.”

“In what way?” his father asked. “How could the legitimization of my grandson give a wrong impression to the ladies of the realm? Aemon and Daenerys were formally betrothed and the marriage itself would have been nothing more than a _mere _formality.”

“It is no _mere _formality for us, your Grace,” Lord Tywin explained calmly. “While you may be certain of the parentage of this child, your lords might think differently. The law supports our cause in this matter as well.”

Mace Tyrell was not as calm. He was squirming beneath the King’s gaze and constantly brushing the sweat from his brow.

“I agree with Lord Tywin in this matter,” Lord Mace Tyrell added hesitatingly when he noticed that Lord Tywin was looking at him. “The law is _clear_ in this matter.”

“A King can legitimize a child,” his father replied coldly. “Can you bring forth a case that says otherwise?”

“Certainly, your Grace,” Lord Tywin replied. “And you may consult the Grand Maester to confirm our findings, but the law is _clear_ in this matter: a child can only be legitimized if it has been acknowledged by the father and if its legitimization has been brought before the King by its father’s hands.”

“Such a law may very well exist, but a King has the right to forgo past laws and make changes to them as he sees fit,” his father replied and balled his right hand. “Or are you trying to imply that I cannot make use of my rights?”

“You can certainly do it, your Grace,” Lord Tywin replied calmly, his eyes never leaving the King. “But that doesn’t mean your lords will abide by it. Should the unlikely situation occur that Prince Aegon has no sons of his own _this _child would be our King and then there might be those who could start voicing their doubts regarding _this_ child’s conception.”

“There is no doubt!” his father hissed. “The boy looks very much like a Targaryen.”

“Well,” Lord Mace Tyrell said and sucked in a shuddering breath. “But in this case it would be better if the child would share Prince Aemon’s coloring. As Lord Tywin rightly said, there are those who will certainly question _this_ child’s legitimacy.”

“And you two are part of these group of men, aren’t you, my Lords?”

“That is so,” Lord Tywin said and looked at Lord Mace Tyrell. “But that is not our only reason for coming here. We think that Princess Daenerys should not be rewarded for her false conduct, even if Prince Aemon was formally betrothed to her.”

It was the last straw.

“That is _utter_ nonsense!” his father shouted and rose to his feet, his red cloak wishing after him, as he climbed down the stone steps. “We both know that you are not concerned about the law or the virtue of our daughters, but about power. I granted you a betrothal between my son Gaemon and your granddaughter, Lord Tywin, which is why I will tell you this: do no squander my offer and never speak of this matter again.”

Lord Tywin didn’t seem agitated by his King’s burst outburst.

“I would never be ungrateful, your Grace,” he replied and dipped his head. “But I think you should be aware that you have just as much need of us as we have need of you, especially when certain members of our fourfold allegiance hold a grudge against you and your Queen.”

“You are trying to refer to my kin, aren’t you?” Aegon demanded to know.

“Aegon,” his father said in an iron tone that left no room for further protest. “I do not think Lord Tywin was referring to anyone specifically, isn’t that so?”

“That is so…,” Lord Tywin confirmed and was about to continue, but his father silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“And you are right Lord Tywin. Our allegiance is important, but I can’t allow my sister’s son to remain a bastard.”

“And nobody asks that of you, your Grace,” Lord Mace Tyrell added anxiously. “We ask that _this_ child will only be legitimized as a member of House Targaryen, but not as a child of your son, Prince Aemon Targaryen.”

“It is a small price,” Lord Tywin added calmly. “A small price for our loyalty.”

“You may leave us now,” his father said rather abruptly and dismissed the two lords from his presence. “I have heard enough.”

…

“How dare _he_!” his father shouted later after they had retreated back to their grandmother’s solar. “How dare _me _make such demands?”

“_He_?” his grandmother asked from her cushioned seat. Daenerys was beside her, seated in a heavy armchair and covered with a fur. In her arms was her swaddled babe, gurgling and reaching for her hair with his fisted hands. “I thought it were Lord Mace _and_ Lord Tywin who made these demands?”

“Indeed,” Aegon added. “But father thinks that Lord Mace Tyrell is only agreeing with Lord Tywin because they will soon be kin.”

“Or because he hopes that a son of Rhaenys’ could one day inherit the throne,” Daenerys added and graced Aegon with an amused smile. “Truly, it must be frightening to you that these men are all speculating on your early passing or on your infertility, Egg.”

Aegon chuckled. “Yet, I have no intention to make it easy for them.”

“Good to hear,” his grandmother said unhappily, her dark gaze flickering to the babe in Daenerys’ arms. “But this is a difficult problem we cannot ignore. I know you will disagree with me, my son, but I think you should agree to their conditions. Lord Tywin and Lord Mace are your most important allies and our current situation is rather tense.”

“A King should not allow himself to be bullied by his lords when it concerns the matters of succession,” his father countered.

“I agree with father,” Aegon added his voice and jerked his head at the babe in Daenerys’ arms. “I do not doubt that _this_ child is born from my brother’s seed and I shall gladly accept it as my successor should I have no sons of my own.”

“What you say is true,” his grandmother agreed. “But what a Kings determines in his will is not always accepted. Think of Queen Rhaenyra. She was the _rightful_ heir by her father’s will, but there were many who ignored his wishes. Aegon might accept Jacaerys as his successor, but that doesn’t mean everyone else will follow his will. That is why I say: give Lord Tywin and Lord Mace their will and let us see what the future brings. Much can happen in the meantime and more importantly: Jacaerys will be less of a target.”

“Mother is right,” Daenerys said, but there was no joy her voice. “I never cared for the throne and I do not wish to make more enemies than necessary. I shall be pleased as long as my child carries the name ‘Targaryen’.”

“Are you sure about this?” his father asked Daenerys.

Daenerys nodded her head in confirmation. “I am sure of it. I do not want troubles, because of a situation that may never occur. As far as I know, Aegon is healthy and Lady Shireen will give him many sons. Lord Tywin and Lord Mace are welcome to entertain their dreams of Kingship, but I refuse to part of their _childish_ game.”

His father fell silent again and pondered over Daenerys’ answer.

When he lifted his head again, he looked just as unhappy as before.

“I still don’t like it, but you are the child’s mother, sister. I shall do as you ask.”

“Why did you give in?” Aegon asked Daenerys later after his father and grandmother had left them. He visited her often and he wished Gaemon would come with him. He had hardly spoken a word since their brother’s disappearance and Aegon believed it would be good for him to spend time with their little nephew. “Father will appear _weak_.”

“And Gaemon nearly died by the hands of an assassin,” Daenerys replied. “I do not want the same life for my son.”

“What about Aemon?” Aegon asked and watched the gurgling babe. It looked more like Daenerys than Aemon, safe for the one dark eye. “He wouldn’t agree with _this_ nonsense.”

“Aemon is not here,” Daenerys said with a finality that left no room for further discussions. “And I want peace. Besides, it is none of your business, Egg.”

“Perhaps,” Aegon replied unhappily. “But I prefer to have someone between myself and Gaemon. Not that I don’t trust my brother, but Lord Tywin is far too ambitious for his own good.”

Daenerys chuckled, as she continued to wave her fingers in front of the babe’s face.

“As if your kin is any different. They are just waiting for you to seize to the throne. Not that I blame them, but I just don’t see much of a difference between your kin’s and Lord Tywin’s and Lord Mace’s ambitions. As for Gaemon, I think he will be a great disappointment for Lord Tywin. He is more interested in becoming a great knight rather than a King. He told me so himself when he gave me Aemon’s egg.”

Aegon was surprised to hear this. He hadn’t even known that Gaemon had spoken to Daenerys.

“He gave you the eggs?”

Daenerys smiled sadly. “He thought that my son should have it.”

“That is very generous of him,” Aegon said. “But I am surprised he came to see you at all. Every time, I try to speak to him about our brother and his mother, he changes the topic.”

“He needs just time,” Daenerys assured Aegon. “And I am sure Lady Lyanna will come back in good time.”

Aegon hoped so as well. He and Lady Lyanna had never been close, but his father had as much need of her presence as Gaemon.

Yet, that was not his only wish. He still hoped that his brother was alive, but as Daenerys had rightly said: only time could tell.

…


	61. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella was hiding away in the shadows, as she watched her second-oldest son kneel before his brother and King.

He looked slightly older and his hair dark instead of the silvery color he had inherited from Rhaella.

Beside him was his young wife, a fat-cheeked babe with silver hair clutched to her chest.

The babe gurgled, fisted hands reaching for the sky, unbothered by the troubles surrounding its conception

Rhaella felt a deep longing to join them and to welcome her son and his wife, but she had to keep up appearances for now.

This was a delicate matter.

“Welcome back, Viserys,” Rhaegar greeted his brother warmly, though he had dressed in the finery of a King. He had even put on his crystal crown, but that was understandable, for Lord Royce had sent his heir and Lady Ysilla’s oldest brother here to speak on behalf of his father. “I am pleased to find you well.”

“I am also pleased to be back…,” Viserys replied hesitatingly and looked over to Ser Andar, his voice faltering.

“What my husband means to say is that we are _both _pleased to be back,” Lady Ysilla replied for Viserys and shifted her attention to her brother. “Are you not pleased to see me, dear brother, or has father forbidden you to speak to me?”

Ser Andar looked as if his sister had slapped him, a ghost of a smile crossing over his lips.

“Father made me do no such thing, sister,” he said. “But you caused us great worry and you must know that our Lord Father had different plans for you.”

“I am aware of _his_ plans for me,” Lady Ysilla said without blinking. “And I disapproved of them. Whatever you may think, I am not some silly goose to allow myself to be seduced. I knew what I was doing and father should stop blaming it on the King. He had no hand in this matter.”

Ser Andar seemed relieved, but the tension remained.

“I am pleased to hear that, sister,” he said at last and looked up to the King. “Sadly, my father won’t see it that way.”

“Then, I shall speak to him and make him understand,” she began, but Ser Andar Royce silenced her with a sorrowful shake of his head.

“Father would refuse to see you,” he told his sister. “He told me so himself.”

The girl clutched her babe to her chest, disappointment hardening her face.

“Father was always too stubborn for his own,” she muttered to herself and cleared her throat. “Well, then tell him this: I made my choice and I don’t regret it.”

Ser Andar’s head fell and he exhaled deeply.

“Is that all?”

“That is all,” Lady Ysilla replied stubbornly and shifted her attention back to her King.

“I know that we caused you great grief, your Grace, but it was all my idea. If you wish to punish me, so be it, but leave Viserys out of it. “

“I have no intention to punish you, my Lady,” Rhaegar replied at last. “And I have no intention to punish Viserys either. There is no use in questioning your match, as the result of your consummation is right there in your arms. Treating you unkindly would only confirm your father’s opinion of me. Thus, you shall be rewarded with privileges and responsibilities in equal measure. I shall give you another chance to prove yourself, brother.”

Viserys had listened in silence, his mouth now opening and closing, but no sound leaving it. It seemed as if he hadn’t expected such mercy.

He knelt and dropped his head. “Everything you want, brother.”

“As a consequence of your actions I cannot give you Harrenhall, but am willing to name you Prince of Summerhall until my third son, Prince Gaemon Targaryen, is of age to hold these lands on his own.”

“I thank you,” Viserys said. “But I don’t think I am worthy of such an honor.”

“You will be,” Rhaella said at last and stepped closer. Viserys smiled at her as she looked at Ser Andar Royce.

“I hope so,” he said and lowered his head in front of the man. “And I regret that I it had to be this way. I know your father thinks of me as the lowliest of creatures, but he shall receive a handsome dowry.”

“That is a kind offer,” Ser Andar Royce replied. “But my father will refuse it.”

“Let him, the stubborn man,” Lady Ysilla muttered to herself. “He will see what he gains from it.”

“Ysilla,” Ser Andar said in a warning tone. “That is unworthy of you…father suffered a great loss, we all suffered a great loss.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Ysilla said and gave her brother a confused look. “What are speaking of?”

“Your brother Ser Waymar Royce perished with my son beyond the Wall,” Rhaegar answered. “You have my condolences.”

Lady Ysilla Royce was suddenly very silent and trembled from head to toe. Her brother and Viserys were quickly at her side and steadied her.

“I need to leave for a moment,” she told the King. “Forgive me.”

“There is no need,” the King said. “I think we have said everything.”

“We have,” Rhaella said and bridged the distance between herself and her son, enclosing him in a tight embrace. “And now you shall rest. Ser Andar may also join us if he wishes.”

“I would be pleased,” Ser Andar replied politely and continued to hold his sister. “And you shall hear everything.”

“We will hear it all,” Viserys confirmed and they did, as they broke their fast with honeyed pig and roasted vegetables.

“Were there any bodies found?”

“No,” Rhaegar replied sadly. “All we have is an eyewitness. He believes them all dead.”

“Gods be good,” Viserys muttered and met Rhaella’s gaze across the table. “No wonder Daenerys is not here. She must be grief-stricken.”

“She doesn’t talk much about it,” Rhaella replied sadly. “But I am sure she will be happy to meet you, your wife and your babe.”

“And I will be happy to meet her son.”

For a brief moment, Rhaella believed Daenerys would never let go of Viserys, but when she heard the mewling sound of her babe it took only the blink of a moment before she pulled him from the nursemaid’s arms and bared her breast.

Rhaella had long stopped chiding her for it, especially after what Archmaester Marwyn had told her not long after daughter’s recovery.

_It was a difficult birth, your Grace, and the Princess might not have more children. It is hard to tell, but possible._

“What a precious boy,” Lady Ysilla complimented after she had taken a look at the boy suckling on her daughter’s breast. “And a greedy one. What did you name him?”

“Jacaerys,” Daenerys replied proudly. “I wanted something _new_.”

“The name is definitely something _new_,” Viserys said. “The name of our girl is rather uncreative…meet Daenerys….or Naerys.”

Daenerys beamed.

“You named her after me?”

Viserys nodded his head. “Only if you don’t mind, sister.”

Her daughter laughed. “And now I wished I named this one Viserys.”

Viserys nodded his head, as if to say: _better than the cursed name you chose, dear sister._

Yet, as Rhaella he kept these thoughts to himself.

She was just happy to have her family back, though it was not her whole family.

Aemon was still missing.

…


	62. The Black Dragon

**The Black Dragon**

Varys watched, as the young girl with silver hair picked the pale lotus flower from the green water.

His niece Saera had her mother’s beauty. She had finely-shaped face, fleshy lips and silver hair that shone like molten silver whenever it slipped free from its braid.

The pink dress made her appear only more beautiful and her laughter…it was like spring sunshine after a terrible storm.

“Does it suit me, Uncle?” she asked him and put the flower into her hair. “I am not sure.”

“Everything suits you, my dear child,” Magister Illyrio added proudly. He was lying on a cushioned canopy, his pale robe fluttering in the wind, as he turned his head to look at Varys. “Isn’t that so, dear friend?”

Varys nodded his head and brushed his hand over the parchment spread over his lap.

It were the latest tidings from Westeros, tidings that displeased him greatly. He had stacked all his hopes upon Ser Gerold Dayne to seed discord between the King and the Martells, but it seemed as if someone had proven far more successful than him.

Several moons, after the attempt on Prince Gaemon’s life, Queen Lyanna and several of her ladies had been poisoned, which had caused a miscarriage and the flight of Prince Oberyn to Essos.

It were good tidings, but not quite what he had been hoping for. It seemed their plans had to be delayed again, but perhaps that would be a good thing.

“Varys,” Illyrio called out to him. “Did you hear?”

“I heard,” Varys replied and smiled at his niece. “You are more beautiful than the sun in the sky, dear child. Even in beggar’s clothing you would outshine every lady in the world.”

The girl laughed and kissed his cheek. “Oh, you are jesting, dear Uncle. You are a worse flatterer than Aegon.”

Then, she rushed away, her violet shawl fluttering behind her like a horde of butterflies.

“She is such a precious girl,” Illyrio sighed. “Like my Serra. And sweeter than honey.”

“She is,” Varys agreed and put the parchment away. “But we still have to find her a match. When the time comes, Aegon will have need of as many men as he can hope for.”

“We have the Golden Company,” Illyrio countered. “And my son is a finer sword than many a man in Westeros. We just have to bide our time for the right moment.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Varys replied. “But we still have need of more men. I told you about my plan to have Saera wed to Khal Bharbo’s ambitious son. He is much different than the other Khals. They say he has set his eyes on conquering the East or better said the Slaver Cities.”

“A difficult endeavor,” Illyrio replied. “He will surely have need of allies to accomplish this goal. And you think he would be willing to cross the Narrow Sea?”

“Why not?” Varys asked. “He has already squashed two khalasars and in time he might be able to unite all Khals under his banner. They say the Slaver Cities are trembling in fear and the Free Cities are spending much more than usual to prepare for a possible war. Braavos is apparently building a new fleet.”

“I heard so much,” Illyrio confirmed. “This new Sealord is a hot-headed fellow and his views on slavery are rather radical.”

“And a possible alley,” Varys replied. “He despises slavery as much as myself and wouldn’t shed a tear if Khal Drogo burns and pillages the Slaver Cities. Perhaps our King could even convince the Khal to abolish this horrid practice to pacify the Braavosi.”

Illyrio shook his head in disbelief. “These savages will never abolish slavery nor do I like the idea of losing my servants, old friend. If anything the Khal might even try to conquer Braavos.”

“A foolish endeavor,” Varys chided. “And from what I heard about Khal Drogo, very unlikely. It seems he is hell-bent on breaking with the old traditions. They say a prophecy foretold that he would become the greatest conqueror there ever was.”

“Prophecies are like fairy tales for grown men. Well, I still don’t like your plan. I think neither Aegon nor Saera would be pleased with your idea,” Illyrio pointed out and turned unto his stomach. The naked servant boy went to the other side and fanned him fresh air. Even so, he was sweating like a pig. “He loves his sister.”

“Love will not win him a crown,” Varys pointed out.

“It is his dragon blood speaking,” Illyrio said proudly. “My Serra was like that too. She always had a passionate heart.”

“And lacked reason,” Varys pointed out, but not in a cruel manner. He had loved his passionate sister with all his heart, though they had little in common beyond blood. “Like my nephew. He is a good swordsman, but he has yet to realize that the crown will not simply drop into his lap by waving around with his sword. If my plan had worked out as it was supposed to be fourteen years ago, there would be no need for all this. Besides, Aegon needs a Westerosi bride. Either the daughter of a Lord Paramount or a Targaryen Princess.”

“Princess Rhaenys Targaryen is already married, isn’t she?” Illyrio asked after he had dropped grape into his mouth. “To a Tyrell…which leaves only King Rhaegar’s sister and his youngest daughter.”

“The younger girl is sightless,” Varys pointed out. “And therefore not good for breeding. I suppose we need King Rhaegar’s sister.”

“We will see,” Illyrio said and exhaled deeply. “Much can happen in the future, old friend. “The distrust between House Targaryen and House Martell has deepened, King Rhaegar’s Queen remains in the North, his second son has perished beyond the Wall and Prince Viserys has displeased Lord Royce by marrying his only daughter.”

“Royce could be a potential alley,” Varys agreed and brought his cup to his lips. “Another one, but still not enough. We will need more time.”

“Saera and Aegon are still young,” Ilyrio remarked and chuckled when he noticed Saera’s presence. She was carrying around her kitten, a small white tiger, her name day gift.

“Here comes the mighty dragon!” she announced and laughed. “Balerion the Dread!”

Varys couldn’t join their laughter. His plans wouldn’t please his beloved sister, but it was the only way.

_Forgive me, sister._

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon Blackfyre or Mopatis was born around 282.
> 
> Saera Blackfyre was born in 283.
> 
> End of part 1.


End file.
